


Secondhand Dreams

by beginbeloved



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Heart Events (Stardew Valley), Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beginbeloved/pseuds/beginbeloved
Summary: Jo Fuller takes over her grandfather's farm and doesn't take long to make herself known to the local doctor, who frustrates and fascinates her at the same time. A Harvey and The Farmer romance, structured around the heart events but with plenty more story.
Relationships: Harvey (Stardew Valley)/Original Female Character(s), Harvey/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 53





	1. An Accident

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I thought it would be fun to take Harvey's heart events and flesh them out into a full story, and to create a character who would be a good foil for him. My hope is to create a romance that feels real, but still true to the story and Harvey's character in the game. So it'll be a bit of a slow burn, not too much angst, but hopefully just enough spice and drama to keep things interesting. I welcome your feedback!

It was a fine day for exploring the forest. The sun shone brightly and sparse clouds blew by quickly overhead, pushed on by a gusting breeze. The tree branches above made pleasant rustling sounds in the wind while Jo Fuller made her way down from the southern entrance of her grandfather’s farm, carrying a large straw basket over one shoulder. She had spent the morning digging up a few knobbly potatoes from her garden, the last of her first harvest on the farm. It wasn’t noon yet, but the sun was getting hot, and the first touch of humidity in the air served as a reminder that spring was rapidly making its way for summer. There were still preparations to make for summer planting, and a lot of debris around her old farmhouse left to clear, but Jo’s sore muscles convinced her that a trip into the woods was a better use of this beautiful day.

Jo wondered whether she’d find a few more spring onions or dandelion greens that she could use for salads, uncertain if it was too late in the season for them. She suspected it was too early to find any wild berries. Whether she found anything worth foraging or not, she was glad to spend some time off the farm for a change. The sun felt good on her face, and the air in the forest was sweet and just a little cooler than on the farm.

She came to a small clearing where she found a few dandelions, looking ready to wilt in the warmth. She crouched down next to them, fished in her bag for the paring knife she’d grabbed from the kitchen, and got to work gathering the leafy greens into her basket. As she worked, she spotted another, much larger patch of greens a few feet away. She wasn’t certain, but they looked like mustard greens - the thought made her smile, remembering the taste of the mustard greens her grandmother used to cook, spicy and pleasantly vinegary. Jo couldn’t remember exactly how her grandmother had cooked them, but she knew it took several hours to get them fully cleaned and cooked down nice and tender –and that this process also involved a generous amount of bacon fat and garlic. She set to work cutting the greens up out of the earth, excitedly planning out her dinner. With fewer farm chores to do today, she’d have time to walk into town to buy bacon and garlic for her greens, and pick out something else to serve as a main dish.

Her basket was about half-full of peppery-smelling greens when Jo’s grip on her knife slipped and she felt a sudden, searing pain in her left hand. “Shit,” she hissed softly, dropping the knife while she lifted her hand up to see what she’d done to herself. “Oh shit. Ouch. _Shit_ ,” she said when she saw the deep gash across the fleshy part of her palm, just below her thumb. Blood was already running down her wrist and forearm. “Oh, goddamn it. That was stupid,” she muttered to herself, dropping down from her crouched position onto her backside. For a brief moment her head only buzzed while she tried to conjure up some memory of how to treat a cut. Her stomach rolled slightly at the sight of the blood. She reached into her bag for a kitchen towel she’d packed to cover up her basket, and wrapped it awkwardly around her injured hand. Her stomach lurched and her head started to swim as the blood quickly seeped through the towel.

_I’ve got to call for help_ , Jo realized, scrambling in her bag for her cell phone. Her closest neighbor was also probably closest to the forest, and luckily she had her number – she’d only exchanged numbers with a handful of people in town so far. She scrolled down her contacts, trembling fingers fumbling a bit, and tapped on the name _Marnie Neighbor_. Jo pressed the phone between her shoulder and ear, freeing up her right hand to put pressure on the left, and tried to steady her breathing while it rang. She was careful not to look down at the towel again, feeling nauseous just thinking about it.

Finally from the other end, she heard a click and, “Hello?”

“Marnie? It’s Jo. From the farm. I need your help. Please,” she rushed out in one breath.

“Well my goodness, honey, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m in the forest. I’m just a little ways off the road. I cut my hand and it’s – um,” she forced herself to swallow before continuing, “It’s bleeding a lot.”

“Oh Lord. Hang on, hon, let me get in the truck and I’ll come get you,” Marnie replied. Jo heard the muffled sounds of movement over the phone, and then the creak of a screen door opening and shutting again. “Wrap it up with whatever you can find and keep some pressure on it. I’m coming as fast as I can.”

“Thanks Marnie.” Jo swallowed hard and chanced a look down at her hand again. The towel was soaked, but holding pressure on the cut did seem to slow the bleeding down a bit. She listened to the sounds of Marnie’s truck starting up over the phone, then after a moment said, “Marnie? I’m going to make my way back toward the road so you can see me.”

“Alright, you just go carefully. I’ll keep an eye out for you,” said Marnie in a reassuring drawl that reminded Jo of her mom’s family. “I’m going to put down the phone while I’m driving, okay?”

“Okay,” said Jo, shifting the phone back into her right hand and shoving it down into the pocket of her jeans. She put her bag over her right shoulder and maneuvered her basket into the crook of her elbow, feeling ungraceful with only one usable hand. She pushed herself up, moving slowly and awkwardly to keep her injured hand elevated, and began carefully picking her way back toward the trail. She focused on slowing her breathing, trying to ignore the dizzy feeling of panic that flared up every time she caught a glimpse of her bleeding hand.

Jo reached the edge of the woods and stepped back onto the road just in time to see Marnie pulling up in her red pickup truck. She stuck out her right hand to wave, and the truck slowed to a stop. Marnie quickly put it in park and hurried out to Jo, demanding, “Let me see, honey.” Jo held out her left hand, feeling both relieved and foolish while Marnie took stock of her. The older woman shook her head, clicked her tongue and said, “We better get you to the clinic. You need stitches.” When Jo’s eyes widened in response, she quickly added, “You’re not gonna bleed out, hon, but you do need some help. Let’s go. Get on in the truck.”

****

When they arrived at the clinic, Marnie helped Jo out of the passenger seat and swung one strong arm under her shoulders to steady her. “Almost there, hon, you’re alright. I don’t think you’ve lost enough blood to be this woozy,” she said, brows furrowing as she detected the trembling in Jo’s legs.

“I really don’t like blood,” Jo explained, wincing at the childish tone in her voice. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to keep it together.”

“Well goodness, child. It’s alright. We’ve all got something like that,” Marnie murmured as she helped her through the clinic door.

A bell rang when the door opened, and Jo could hear footsteps from the hallway behind the front desk. A bright voice called out in a singsong tone, “He-llo, do you have an appointment or – oh!” Maru, the young nurse, came through the door, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of them. Jo watched her eyes dart from Marnie to herself and then down to her hand, the blood-soaked towel looking grisly. “Are you okay? What happened? I’ll get the doctor, just come straight back,” she said in one rushed breath, hurrying around the counter to help Marnie support Jo. She ushered them through the double doors to the hall and into a room, motioned for Marnie to help Jo into the bed, then quickly ducked out of the room again.

“I’ve got it,” Jo grumbled, gently pulling away from Marnie’s offer of help and climbing into the hospital bed. She sat upright, settling her low back against a pillow, and took another look down at her hand. The towel looked awful, but she didn’t seem to be bleeding much anymore. She could feel pain throbbing along with her heartbeat in the deep cut. She sighed, feeling foolish, and looked back at Marnie again. “I’m sorry for all the fuss,” she said, holding up her injured hand. “I think I just panicked. Thank you for coming to get me.”

Marnie’s smile was kind. “I’d rather you call for help than take a chance if you’re hurt. Especially if taking a chance means you pass out in the woods from the sight of your own blood,” she replied. She moved toward the doorway and said, “I’ll wait for you in the lobby, alright? Give you a ride home after you’re patched up.” Jo managed a small smile back and nodded.

Maru appeared in the doorway again a moment later, looking a bit flustered. “Miss Jo, here’s Dr. Harvey to look at your hand. I think you met him before?” she asked, before stepping aside to allow the doctor in the room.

Jo noticed that, even before he took a look at her, Harvey’s brows were furrowed with concern. He moved quickly but calmly to the side of the bed, focusing immediately on her wrapped-up hand. “Yes, Maru, we’ve been introduced,” he said. He reached under a table for a rolling stool, settled on it at the side of the bed, and gently lifted up her hand. “I’m going to unwrap this and take a closer look, okay, miss?”

Jo nodded in agreement and looked up toward the ceiling while he carefully unwrapped the towel. It had been hard enough seeing only the towel, so she hoped to avoid having to look at the cut itself again. She closed her eyes, focused on her breathing again and waited, allowing her left hand to go limp as the doctor examined it.

“Well, you’ll need some stitches,” she heard him say. She felt her pulse pick up, and let out a slow but shaky exhalation. He must have noticed her nerves, because he almost immediately followed up with, “Are you alright?”

Jo turned toward him, careful to avoid looking down far enough to see her hand. She saw those same furrowed brows and a pair of warm green eyes looking at her from behind thick glasses, searching her face with a mixed expression of worry and confusion. “I’m alright,” she said, steeling herself. “I don’t like blood. I mean – I really don’t like blood. It makes me want to pass out. And the idea of getting stitches is freaking me out,” she confessed.

Harvey sat back a bit, the look of worry on his face easing away, replaced by a small smile. “You’re doing fine,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “It won’t take long. I’ll give you a numbing shot. That’s the only thing that you’ll feel. If you feel any pain after that, you let me know right away and I’ll give another. And you don’t have to look at anything I’m doing if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Jo took a deep breath, feeling her nerves settle slightly, and nodded. Harvey gave a quick nod back and then turned, rolling toward a table where Maru was setting out supplies. Jo directed her eyes back up toward the ceiling again and waited.

She heard the rolling stool move back to the bedside and felt Harvey’s hand on hers. “Okay,” he said softly, “Numbing shot. Just a little pinch.” She felt the pinch, but it didn’t register as especially painful against the larger pain of the cut itself. A few moments later, she heard him ask, “Can you feel this?”

“No,” she replied, still keeping her gaze on the ceiling, wondering briefly what it was she was supposed to be feeling.

“Good. Then it’s working.” He paused for a moment, and she thought she could feel his eyes on her again. “If it’s helping you to look up, just keep doing that. It’ll be just a few minutes.”

Jo nodded again and kept her focus on her breathing. Gradually, she felt her heart rate slow down and some semblance of calm return to her body. She could hear Harvey working – an occasional rattle of an instrument on a metal table, the soft snip of scissors – and although she did not want to look at what he was doing, she felt herself getting curious about him.

She glanced down at him and found him absorbed in his work, unaware of her eyes on his face. His expression was focused and calm. She had met him once before, been introduced to him briefly by the mayor when he took her on a whirlwind tour through town to meet as many locals as they could find. She recalled a polite smile and a firm handshake, and that was about it. Now she noticed bright green eyes, full dark brows, an angular nose with those thick glasses perched on the bridge. He had the very beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. His mouth was set in a firm line of concentration while he worked, partially hidden under his moustache. His hair was red-brown and wavy, rebelling slightly against whatever he had done to try to tame it that morning.

Jo realized that, especially compared to her, he was quite neat and well-dressed, in a clean dress shirt and tie. She glanced down at her own clothing and felt a small wave of embarrassment when she realized she still had dark patches of dirt from that morning’s potato-digging on her jeans. She was also fairly certain she had been sweating under the sun on her walk to the woods. She hoped she smelled more like dirt than sweat.

“Almost done,” she heard him say, pulling her back out of her own head. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice steadier than before.

“Good. You’ve done really well. I’m finishing your last stitch now. I’ll put a bandage over it, then it’ll be safe to take a look,” he said, looking up from his work to give her a brief smile.

Jo let out a small sigh of relief. “Thanks, doc.” She noticed the corners of his mouth twitch up in the slightest show of amusement.

“There. Done. Take a look,” he said. Jo looked down to see her hand wound snugly in a clean bandage, and felt relief wash over her.

“Much better,” she said.

“I agree,” he replied, then stood up, using his foot to roll the stool back under the table. He was slightly taller than the average man, which meant he was probably just a couple inches taller than Jo. “Maru will get some supplies and discharge instructions for you shortly. I need to get back to my scheduled appointments. But I do want to ask - how exactly did you cut yourself in the first place?”

Jo let out a quick laugh, struck suddenly by the absurdity of it. “I was digging up mustard greens that I found in the woods.”

Harvey’s brow furrowed again, but this time he simply looked perplexed. “Digging up greens?” he repeated. “That cut didn’t look like it was from a spade, or-“

“No. It wasn’t,” she interrupted. “I just had a paring knife with me.”

Now he was frowning at her, and Jo thought she caught a brief flash of something else – irritation? _Surely not_ , she thought – across his face. He gave his head a small, quick shake, and when he spoke he was terse. “You should really be more careful.”

Jo frowned back at him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “It was just an accident,” she responded, a bit of an edge in her voice.

He nodded, quickly collecting himself again, formal and polite. “Well, miss Jo. Get some rest for a few minutes. Maru will be here soon with everything you need.” He turned to leave the room, pausing on his way out to look her over once, and said, “Take care.”

****

Soon afterward, Maru was escorting her out to the lobby where Marnie had waited patiently to drive her back to the farm. She had been given a bag with clean bandages, painkillers, and antibiotic ointment, along with strict, precise instructions from Maru on exactly how she should take care of her hand. “It’s tough for a cut on your palm to heal, so be careful not to use your hand too much. I know that’s probably hard when you have a farm to run,” Maru said, her voice warm and friendly. “I’ll call you to set up an appointment in a couple weeks so Dr. Harvey can see how it’s healing. And of course you call us anytime if you have any trouble!”

Jo smiled gratefully at the sweet nurse, thanked her, and then turned to Marnie. “All done,” she said, feeling a little sheepish again. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“Let’s just get you home, honey,” Marnie said, patting her shoulder as they headed out together toward the truck.


	2. A House Call

Jo lasted a week before she decided that, injured hand or not, it was time to start planting for summer. She had done all the one-handed tasks she could think of to get ready – gone into town to buy seeds and fertilizer, prepared her small flower boxes for the front porch, picked up a few dry branches that had been blown out of trees on windy days – and then realized that if she waited any longer, she might not have a summer harvest at all.

Early the next morning, she pulled her dark hair into a lopsided ponytail, doing her best not to move her left thumb too much in the process. She headed out into the garden, carrying a hoe and a shovel over her right shoulder, ready to turn up rows for peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and blueberries. The old stray dog that Marnie had dropped off at the farm a few weeks before followed behind her at a languid pace, flopping down in the dirt with a grumble once she came to a stop.

“Alright, Bud,” she said to the dog, “Let’s see if I can figure out how to hoe a row without hurting myself worse.” His tail thumped happily on the ground in response.

She quickly learned that, even wearing a work glove and trying to let her right hand do most of the work, her left palm was painful under the pressure of the handle. She gave a frustrated sigh and went back to her bag, fishing out the supplies for her backup plan: a couple of thin dish towels and an oversized work glove of her grandfather’s that she’d found tucked up on a closet shelf. She wrapped both dish towels around her bandaged hand, and then with a bit of effort pulled the ancient leather glove over top, wiggling her fingers into place one by one. The glove barely fit over her triple-wrapped hand, but now she had the extra layers of padding she hoped would be enough to let her do her work.

Jo looked down at her unevenly sized hands, snorted, and held them out toward the dog. “Look how janky,” she commented, getting a sleepy-sounding huff in reply.

But it did the trick well enough, and over two days of slow, awkward, tiring work, she got her summer plants in the ground.

****

The day after she finished planting, Jo made her way into town to visit Evelyn. She’d invited Jo over to demonstrate her cookie recipe, and she suspected the elderly woman was eager for some new company. She was happy to oblige – it’d been several days since she’d left the farm, and her old dog was sweet, but not an outstanding conversationalist. Jo’s muscles ached in unusual places as she walked into town, strained from the odd way she’d had to work in order to protect her injured palm.

Evelyn greeted her with enthusiasm at the door and hurried her inside to the kitchen. “I’ve made us some tea, dear, and it’ll go wonderfully with these cookies,” she said while Jo settled in at the round kitchen table. Evelyn turned and hollered, “George!” into the hallway, so abruptly that Jo nearly jumped. “The new farmer’s come by! Say hello!”

A grumpy-sounding shout came from the living room across the hall: “Hello!”

Jo stifled a laugh. Evelyn gave a slight huff and turned back into the kitchen. “Excuse him, dear, he’s in a mood today. And most days. He’s not much for hospitality anymore, I’m afraid.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Mullner.”

“Well then,” Evelyn smiled and clapped her hands together once. “Let’s get to these cookies. Sooner we get them in the oven, the sooner we get to eat them and have us a talk.”

Jo watched carefully and jotted down a few notes as Evelyn walked her through her locally-famous chocolate chip cookie recipe. She shared a few tips on the importance of butter temperature and flour quality along the way, seeming to enjoy having a student.

Once the cookies were in the oven, the two women settled down in kitchen chairs with their tea. Jo couldn’t help but smile – Evelyn’s company had warmed her up inside. The old woman’s kindness and eagerness to share her expertise reminded her of days spent in the kitchen with other women in her life – her grandmother, her aunts, her mom.

“I have to tell you, dear, I was thrilled when I learned someone was taking over that old farm again,” said Evelyn. “And then when I learned you were Hank’s granddaughter, my heart just burst. What a wonderful thing for this whole town, to have a working farm again, and run by someone with ties to this place – what a blessing.”

Jo smiled, touched by Evelyn’s excitement. “I’m glad to be here,” she said. “I just hope I can live up to the expectations. The family stories about my granddad and that farm made it sound like something legendary.”

Evelyn laughed. “Your granddad was a trip, and he had a good thing going at that farm. But don’t you worry. It took him a long time and a lot of tries to get things running smoothly. I don’t think he managed to grow anything edible in his first year, so you’re already doing just fine by his standard.”

“That’s good to hear.” Jo smiled and sipped her tea, enjoying the warm drink despite the day’s heat. The smell of chocolate chip cookies began to permeate the kitchen.

There was a short knock on the front door, and Evelyn shouted, “Come in!” as she rose from her chair. Jo heard the door creak open as Evelyn said, “That’ll be the doctor here for George,” and went out to greet him.

Jo felt her heart sink a bit. She hadn’t seen Harvey since she cut her hand, and still felt an uncomfortable mixture of frustration and embarrassment when she thought about that day. For a day or two afterward, she’d found herself replaying parts of their interaction in her head, puzzling over the irritation she’d sensed from him. She still didn’t understand what had changed in that moment, and his being here now left her feeling unsettled.

Jo listened as Evelyn led Harvey down the hallway. “Doctor, you’re in for a treat. The new farmer is here and we’ve got cookies in the oven. Join us after George’s checkup and try one, and I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.”

“You’re too kind,” said Harvey as the two of them appeared in the archway. “I’ll do that.” He nodded politely in Jo’s direction. “Good morning, miss,” he said, then turned his attention back to Evelyn. “First things first, though. I’ll see to George.” Evelyn motioned him to the living room across the hallway and then returned to her spot at the kitchen table.

“Such a nice young man,” she commented as she sat down. “He goes out of his way for us old folks.” They could hear Harvey and George’s muffled voices from across the hall. The oven timer buzzed, and Evelyn moved to stand again before Jo put a hand out to stop her.

“Here, I’ll get them, you just sat down,” she said, moving quickly toward the oven before Evelyn could protest. She picked up a couple of potholders off the countertop and pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven, the smell of melted chocolate making her stomach rumble.

They chatted for a few minutes while they waited for the cookies to cool. Evelyn explained that prior to Harvey moving to Pelican Town, they’d been without a doctor in the area for several years.

“Really?” said Jo, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “How far did you have to go if you needed a doctor?”

“At least an hour’s drive, dear, if you wanted someone decent. Our previous doctor had retired and his replacement backed out at the last minute,” she said. “I can tell you that when Dr. Harvey came along, we were about ready to throw him a parade,” she chuckled. She smiled warmly at Jo, reaching out to pat the back of her hand. “For us older folks who have been in town a long time, having a doctor _and_ a farmer again has made us happier than we’ve been in a good while. It feels hopeful, like some life is finally coming back into our little town.” Jo gave a small smile, feeling gratified but a little overwhelmed by Evelyn’s kindness.

As Evelyn transferred the cookies onto a plate, the voices across the hall grew louder. Suddenly George appeared in the kitchen, wheeling his way around toward the table and grumbling under his breath. Harvey came in quickly behind him, looking flustered. “Mr. Mullner, there’s no need for this –“ he protested, but George interrupted him.

“No, young man, I’ve told you before not to try to boss me around, and you sure won’t do it here in my own house,” George snapped. “I said I want another opinion and I’ll get one.” He glanced around the kitchen, first looking at Evelyn and shaking his head. “I know what my wife’ll say, so I’ll ask you, young lady,” he said, his eyes locking intently onto Jo.

Harvey’s flustered look was not helped by the flush that crept onto his cheeks and neck. “Mr. Mullner, your appointments are supposed to be private. You’re welcome to a second opinion, but Miss Fuller isn’t medically trained-“

“I’ve told you what I want, now hush so I can ask her,” said George, keeping his eyes on Jo. “This young doctor thinks I ought to stop eating anything with any flavor and start getting _exercise_ so I can stay healthy. Now I don’t see the point of living healthy if it means you don’t get to enjoy any damn thing,” he growled. “So what do you think, miss? Should I give up the things I like to make this doctor happy?”

“Um,” Jo stammered, taking a fast look around the room while she tried to collect herself. Evelyn had been shocked into an embarrassed silence, her cheeks red, clutching the plate of cookies. Harvey leaned heavily against the kitchen archway, as if he could press himself into it and disappear. And George kept watch on her, his expression pinched, looking almost cartoonish in his grouchiness. She almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation, but instead took one steadying breath.

“George,” she said gently. “I don’t think Dr. Harvey wants you to give up everything you enjoy. I think he wants you to stay healthy so you can enjoy yourself in your older years.” She paused, waiting to see if that was sufficient, but George stayed silent, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “And I think that your wife, and your grandson, and your friends in town would want you to stay healthy so they can keep you around for longer, too.”

George let out a short bark of sardonic laughter and shook his head. “I should have known that was the kind of answer I’d get. You young folks just don’t know what it’s like,” he said. But her answer seemed to satisfy him. He wheeled around to look back at Harvey and said, “I’ll consider what you’ve said, doctor, but I can’t guarantee you anything.”

Harvey dipped his head in polite acknowledgement. His cheeks were returning to their normal color, and his shoulders began to relax, creeping back away from his ears. George turned and wheeled himself down the hall, and they heard the sound of the TV clicking on.

Evelyn looked mortified. “Dr. Harvey, I’m so sorry,” she said, moving to his side and gesturing for him to sit down at the table. “Please, come sit, have a cookie and I’ll get that coffee going. I can’t believe that husband of mine,” she muttered, her expression quickly shifting from embarrassment to anger while she set down the plate of cookies. Harvey was attempting to reassure her while she ushered him unceremoniously into a chair, but she was distracted. “I’m going to go speak to him,” she declared, then abruptly left the room.

Harvey looked at Jo, and she could tell that neither of them had any idea how to respond to what had just happened. After a brief silence, Harvey cleared his throat and said, “Well. This wasn’t how I was expecting to start my morning.”

Jo couldn’t help but laugh then, and she saw him give a quick smile, visibly relaxing. They could hear Evelyn fussing at George from the other room. “I don’t think you’re getting that coffee anytime soon,” she said, and passed him a cookie. He smiled and shook his head, taking a bite. They sat together in silence for a moment, each enjoying a cookie and the feeling of ease that swept in in the absence of the tension that had filled the room before.

“Thank you for your help,” Harvey said. “I’m sorry you had to get caught up in the middle of my work like that.”

Jo shook her head. “It’s okay. It’s not like you made George come looking for me. He did that all himself.”

He smiled at her, and the same warmth she’d detected the other day while he stitched her up was back again. “You handled the situation much more gracefully than I would have.”

She shrugged. “It was just my honest opinion.”

Harvey nodded, and then glanced down at her hand. “Do you want me to take a look at your cut while I’m here?” he asked, leaning forward to get a closer look.

“Sure,” she said, and turned her left hand over on the table, stretching out toward him. He took her hand into both of his, one steadying her wrist while the other unwrapped the thin strip of bandage she had wound across her palm. It was much better this time, to be able to watch what he was doing without feeling faint. His hands were large - broad across the palms, fingers long and angular. He set the bandage aside and lifted her hand up for a closer look, turning it this way and that, gently running his thumb just above the healing scar.

“You’re nearly ready for the stitches to come out,” he said. “Does it hurt at all at this point?”

She shook her head. “I had to get creative with planting, to protect it,” she said. “It felt a little sore from that, but it’s been fine otherwise.”

He nodded approvingly. “That’s good. It’s healing well. Come by the clinic in two or three days and I’ll take them out for you,” he said. He studied her face for a moment. “I hope it wasn’t too hard to do your farm work with your injury.”

“It wasn’t easy,” she admitted, “But I figured it out.”

“Just try not to overwork yourself, if you can help it,” he replied. Jo heard the same concern in his voice that was there the other day, without the trace of irritation she’d noticed before. She wondered for a moment if she’d simply misinterpreted his tone that day.

As Jo carefully re-wrapped her hand, Evelyn returned to the kitchen. She looked drained and ready to start apologizing for her husband’s behavior all over again, but Harvey spoke up before she had a chance. “The cookies are delicious, Mrs. Mullner,” he said as he rose from his chair. “I believe this is the recipe that I’ve been asking you to share with me,” he said, giving a smile with the slightest hint of mischief. “I won’t pretend I’m not hurt that you’ve given it to our new farmer before me.”

Evelyn chuckled and reached up to clap him on the shoulder affectionately. “I’ve told you before, doctor. I don’t trust you not to alter it, try to make it into health food,” she replied, her face relaxing. Jo smiled to herself while she watched the two of them together: Harvey all charm and unassuming attention, his smile stretching all the way up to those kind green eyes – Jo understood now where the crow’s feet came from – and Evelyn bright with appreciation, clearly feeling cared for.

“I’ve got to get back to my appointments at the clinic,” said Harvey. “It’s been a pleasure to see you as always, Mrs. Mullner.” He looked back toward Jo and added, “And you as well, Jo. I’ll see you again in a few days. Keep taking good care of that hand.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jo said, lifting her bandaged hand to give a little wave goodbye. She listened as Evelyn made a fuss over him on the way to the front door, feeling the slightest bubble of excitement in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this so far! I welcome any feedback and hope to have more chapters ready soon!


	3. A Physical

Several days later, Jo made her way into town, eager to reclaim full function of her left hand. She had risen even earlier than usual in hopes that she’d finish her farm chores and make it into town before the worst of the day’s heat set in, but even at this hour, the sun beat down and the air was thick with humidity. She could feel beads of sweat beginning to form at the back of her neck.

Jo had made one stop before heading to the clinic. She carried a cardboard tray holding three to-go cups of coffee in her good hand, and used her shoulder to push her way through the clinic’s front door. A blast of air conditioning greeted her as she stepped inside. She heard Maru making her way down the hall to the front desk in response to the bell, and watched as a surprised smile spread across the young woman’s face.

“Oh, it’s Jo! Hello! Here to get those stitches out? And – what have you brought?” she asked, looking at the tray of coffees with puzzlement.

“I brought you all coffee from Gus’s,” she said, lifting the tray. “To say thanks for taking care of me the other day. And, yes, I’m here for the stitches, whenever the doctor can work me in,” she said as Maru moved to take the coffees and set them on the counter.

“That’s so nice of you,” Maru exclaimed, happily picking up a cup and taking a tentative sip. “Oh, nice and hot. Thank you so much,” she said, and motioned over toward the waiting area. “Have a seat, I’ll let Dr. Harvey know you’re here.”

Jo sat down in one of the squashy waiting chairs, cradling her own cup of coffee and taking a moment to appreciate the air conditioning. She took a few sips and wondered briefly if she should have gotten them iced instead.

Maru came back into the lobby, followed closely by Harvey. He looked surprised to see her, which puzzled Jo – she felt certain she’d heard him correctly about when to come in for the stitches. Maru pointed to the last cup of coffee on the table and said to him, “Look, Jo brought you one too.”

Harvey picked up the cup and looked over at Jo, a look of light bewilderment still on his face. “It’s very kind of you,” he said, “but you didn’t have to go out of your way for us.”

Jo felt a slight heat creeping onto her cheeks, wondering whether she’d done too much. “Just trying to say thanks. Besides,” she added, a little more boldly, “you never got your coffee the other day.”

Harvey’s brows furrowed for an instant, confused, and Jo could see the moment he remembered their encounter at Evelyn’s, the confusion melting into a crooked smile. “No, I never did,” he chuckled. He lifted the cup toward her briefly, as if he were giving a toast, and took a sip. “Well, I’m grateful. We can always use more caffeine around here,” he said, and Maru nodded in agreement.

“Are you ready to get those stitches out?” he asked, slipping easily back into his usual businesslike formality. “I have some time now between appointments.”

Jo nodded and stood to follow him back to an exam room, where he directed her toward a chair. He gathered a few supplies and set them on the table next to her: a small pair of scissors, tweezers, and gauze. Jo’s gaze lingered on the gauze for a moment as he rolled a chair up across the table from her. “Don’t worry,” he said, pulling on a pair of gloves. “That’s just in case. There shouldn’t be any bleeding this time,” he explained, then added gently, “but if you want to look away again, that’s okay.”

She shook her head. “Thanks. I think I’ll be okay this time.”

“If you change your mind and need a break, just let me know. It’ll only take a few minutes, and nothing should hurt,” he said, looking across at her for confirmation that she was ready. She nodded and he set to work, quickly but carefully lifting each stitch away from her palm, cutting it, and removing it from under the scar. She didn’t mind watching him work this time – his movements were quick and practiced, and she found herself absorbed in the rhythm of it.

“Done,” he announced after pulling out the last stitch, and set aside his tools. He lifted her hand up in both of his and looked over his handiwork. “It’s healed up well. You’ll have a scar there, but it’ll fade over time.”

She shrugged. “I don’t mind a scar. I’m just glad I can use my hand like a normal person again.”

He gave her a warm smile. “I’m sure you are,” he said, making his way to the door. He held it open and motioned her through ahead of him. “Just try to be more careful the next time you’re digging up greens,” he added as they made their way back out to the lobby.

Maru was behind the front desk, busying herself with paperwork. “Thanks again for the coffee,” she said, and Harvey nodded in agreement.

“You’re welcome,” said Jo, heading for the door. “I’ll see you all again sometime.”

“Just no more emergencies,” Maru teased as she waved goodbye.

“No promises,” Jo laughed, and turned to head back to the farm.

****

Summer plodded along, drenching the valley in sunshine, heat, and occasionally a soaking rainstorm. The mornings were heavy-aired and hazy, the afternoons clear and blazing; the only respite from the heat came in the evening, when a cool breeze made being outdoors more bearable. Jo settled into a routine for the season: rising early to tend to her garden before the sun got too hot, coming in for lunch and a shower, and then throwing herself into whatever activity happened to catch her interest for the rest of the day. Some days she foraged in the woods, other days she cleaned out the dusty farmhouse, sorting through boxes of her grandfather’s old things. Marnie spent a couple afternoons helping her set up a chicken coop after Jo read a book on raising hens that she’d found in the library.

Now and then, she’d have some errand to run in Pelican Town. Her routine soon expanded to include stopping by the clinic while she was there, usually with coffee from Gus’s. She bought iced coffees for herself and Maru, but learned quickly that Harvey preferred his hot even in the dog days of summer. Hot and with just a splash of cream.

She could not explain exactly what had possessed her to go back the second time, this time with no medical need to be there. There was more farm work she could have been doing instead, as there always was, but it was also lonely work. Harvey and Maru were two of just a handful of people in town that she felt like she actually knew, and the pull to behave like a person with some semblance of a social life was strong. It helped that they always seemed glad to see her, even if it was just for the free coffee.

If she caught them on a slow day, Maru would pepper her with questions about the farm, wanting to hear updates on her garden and the new young hens she’d just bought from Marnie. Jo enjoyed chatting with the younger woman – she was open, friendly, and curious, and their conversations flowed effortlessly. When Harvey had time to pass with them, he was usually quiet but attentive. It seemed to Jo that he enjoyed just being in their presence, despite keeping to himself for most of the conversation.

One rainy afternoon, Jo stopped in with their usual coffee order and was pleased to see that, aside from Maru behind the front desk, the lobby was empty. Maru’s face lit up as she came in. “Hi Jo!”

“Hi Maru,” she said, shaking her umbrella off outside before setting down their coffees. “Caffeine delivery. I don’t know about you, but I always need it on a rainy day.”

“Me too. If you hadn’t come by I would have made another pot of our cheap stuff,” she said, standing up and moving toward the hall. “Let me tell Harvey you’re here. He’ll be glad to see you too.”

She returned a moment later with the doctor in tow. He greeted Jo with a polite smile and thanked her for the coffee, taking a long, grateful drink. He was dressed in his usual dress shirt and slacks, but looked a bit uncharacteristically messy: at some point during the day he had loosened the knot of his tie, and the rainstorm’s humidity had brought out the unruly waves in his hair.

“How are you today?” he asked as he and Maru settled into chairs behind the desk. “Does this rain let you take a bit of a break?”

Jo propped her elbows up on the tall counter in front of the desk, leaning against it. “I’m good. The rain is good and bad. It saves me time watering, and it’s better for the plants, but it’s tough to get much done outside when the ground is muddy. Plus the chickens get grumpy.”

“So what brings you into town?” asked Maru.

“I’m picking up a pickaxe from Clint’s,” she replied.

“A pickaxe for what?” asked Harvey, his expression a mix of concern and incredulity, as if he could think of no reason she’d need such a thing.

Jo laughed. “For busting up rocks on the farm,” she explained. “Some of them are too big to just dig up, and they’re taking up space I need for farm stuff.”

“ _Farm stuff_ , doctor,” Maru chided him. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Jo can manage to use a pickaxe without causing too much damage to herself.”

Harvey’s worried look did not fade with Maru’s teasing. “Just make sure you’re using it properly. With good form, I mean,” he said. “It’s easy to get injured doing things like that.”

Jo felt a twinge of irritation, biting back an urge to defend herself, but Maru spoke before she could. “She’ll be fine, Harvey. I mean, look at her,” she said, coming out from behind the counter to stand next to Jo. “She’s tall and healthy and strong, perfect for busting rocks,” she joked. She put a hand on Jo’s arm to move her away from the counter, standing her up straight. Maru stretched up on tiptoe next to Jo and still came up a couple inches short of her. Jo knew she looked capable; she was broad across both the shoulders and hips, and even now, several years removed from her most fit, her build was athletic.

“What sport did you play, anyway? Volleyball?” asked Maru.

“Soccer.”

“I knew you must have played something,” Maru grinned, then turned back to Harvey. “Don’t worry about her so much.”

Harvey frowned at the two of them. “It’s just – you’d probably have to go all the way into the city for decent physical therapy, or an orthopedist,” he said, shaking his head when he caught sight of Maru rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he apologized as a light flush began to creep up over his collar. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said, without meeting Jo’s eyes. “I better get back to my case notes. Take care.”

Jo watched him stand and make his way back toward his office. A familiar frustration simmered in her stomach, and little jolts of irritation shot up into the muscles of her neck and shoulders. “Is he like this a lot?” she asked Maru, making an effort to conceal any anger in her tone.

“He worries about people,” replied Maru. “I don’t think he can really help it. I’ve told you I like to build things? Robots and stuff?” she asked, and Jo nodded. “He’s convinced I’m going to electrocute myself one day. He knows I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but it doesn’t change anything for him.”

The two women drank their coffees together for a few more minutes, Maru describing one of her current projects, before Jo excused herself. “I better get to Clint’s before he closes,” she said.

“Alright. Thanks for stopping by. We’ll see you next time.”

****

Not quite consciously, Jo decided to stay out of town for a couple of weeks, instead sticking close to the farm and the forest south of her property. There was plenty of farm work to do, and she had everything she needed to get by for a while without needing to go into town, so she stopped seeking out reasons to make the trip. It helped that she was busy: she had picked her first harvest of cucumbers and blueberries, and her peppers and tomatoes were close behind. She’d gotten excited reading a book on winemaking she’d found in the farmhouse, and with some initial help from Robin, the local carpenter and handywoman, she started building trellises to grow grapes on in the fall.

The project she had the most fun with, though, was jam-making. She had brought in an abundance of blueberries so far, and was eager to try her hand at turning them into jam the same way her grandmother used to. She spent a few afternoons in a row making different batches, sweating over the stove as she tried to find just the right ratio of berries, sugar, and heat to produce jam. Her first two attempts resulted in a sticky mess of burnt sugar and fruit, but her third attempt was closer, and the fourth was finally edible. Those first few tastes of jam – actual jam from her own fruit, grown on her own farm – filled her with a satisfying sense of accomplishment. She wondered if she should try making pickles next.

When she slowed down for a moment, though, Jo still felt lonely. Her old dog stuck close to her side, happy to keep her company, but as sweet as he was, he wasn’t another person. She talked to her mom on the phone from time to time, but still found she missed face-to-face company. When Jo sat with that loneliness, she asked herself why she was staying out of town, why she hadn’t stopped into the clinic in so long; when she sat with that question, she had to confront the lingering frustration left by her last visit. She liked Maru and Harvey both – although they were so different, they each seemed like someone she’d enjoy getting to know better – but something about Harvey’s reactions to her got her hackles up. She didn’t like the feeling, that defensiveness that he brought out in her. It hurt her somehow, she realized – to be questioned, to feel doubted.

After a couple of weeks away, though, the frustration had faded into background noise. She wanted friends in town, and whatever was going on with Harvey’s worries, she felt she could deal with it. So, ready for human interaction again, she set aside her jam-making for an afternoon and headed to the clinic.

Jo was surprised when she arrived to see Harvey behind the front desk rather than Maru, leaning back in his chair and studying a medical journal. The look on his face when he heard he bell ring suggested he was surprised to see her too.

“Hello, Jo,” he said, straightening himself up and smoothing his tie. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else today,” he explained, then looked her over quickly. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I thought I’d just stop by to say hello to you and Maru, since I hadn’t been here in a while.”

He seemed to relax a little. “You haven’t. It’s nice to see you again,” he said. “I sent Maru home early today,” he explained after a pause. “Our only afternoon appointment cancelled, so I thought she should go enjoy her day. She’ll be sorry she missed you.”

“I’m sorry I missed her too,” said Jo. “I didn’t bring coffee this time,” she added, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

“You don’t have to bring coffee,” he said with a kind smile. “Come have a seat. Tell me what you’ve been up to on the farm.”

She pulled up a chair and sat down across the desk from him, beginning to feel more at ease, and filled him in on her jam-making, trellis-building, and preparations for the fall. He was a good listener, she realized; his attention was never divided, and he had a talent for asking questions that kept her talking. It was a different experience from a conversation with both him and Maru, but still enjoyable.

During a lull in their conversation, Harvey checked his watch. “I don’t think I’m going to have any walk-ins before closing,” he said, and looked across the desk at her. “You haven’t had a regular check-up here yet. We could take care of that now if you’d like.”

Jo’s brows lifted in surprise, but before she could think about it too much, she answered, “Sure, why not?”

Harvey led her back to an exam room and directed her toward a chair while he pulled on a pair of gloves. “I’ll get your vitals first,” he said, “Then I’ll ask you a few questions. I don’t imagine there’ll be too much for us to go over, you’re young and healthy,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. Jo nodded her consent, and moments later he was in front of her on a rolling chair, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm and then fitting the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears.

He pressed the stethoscope to the inside of her elbow while he took her blood pressure, glancing down at his watch to keep time. “Your pulse is a little fast,” he commented, looking up at her thoughtfully.

Jo hadn’t even noticed, but he was right – she could feel her heartbeat in her ears, thumping away at a clip. “I think I’m a little nervous,” she said. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting to have a check-up when I came in today.”

He nodded, still looking thoughtful. “That makes sense. Many people get nervous in doctor’s offices,” he said, his tone low and warm. “Your blood pressure is perfect. I’ll listen to your heart and lungs too, okay?” he said, moving closer to press the stethoscope to her chest.

She watched him listening carefully, close enough that she could get a good look at those green eyes. To her embarrassment, her heart was still racing away.

“You sound great,” he said, pulling away and removing the earpieces from his ears. His expression was still thoughtful, his mind clearly working through some medical puzzle. “Do you have any trouble sleeping?” he asked.

“No,” she said. He asked her about her appetite, whether she ever felt nervous for no reason, whether she had trouble tolerating heat; all her answers were no.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “Sometimes a fast heart rate can be a sign of problems with your thyroid, but it doesn’t seem likely. I can do one quick check on it to be sure, if that’s okay with you?” he asked, and she agreed.

He rolled back towards her again, slightly to one side of her, and to her surprise he carefully pressed his fingers on her neck, one hand on either side of her throat. “Swallow for me,” he asked. It took her a second to remember how to coordinate such a movement, but she managed to swallow, feeling her throat move against his fingers.

He moved away from her again, looking satisfied with his investigation. “Your thyroid feels just fine. You’re in great health, Jo. I’m sure that doesn’t come as too much of a surprise,” he said, smiling at her as he removed his gloves and set aside his stethoscope.

“No, but it’s good to hear,” she said, flustered and relieved to be done with the unexpected appointment.

“I’d better close up and get my notes done, then,” he said, walking her back through the hall and into the lobby. “I’ll see you around. And just give us a call if you need anything.”

“I will, thanks. See you,” she said, quickly making her way through the door, grateful to be back outside where she could try to collect herself.

She took a couple of deep breaths, but she was well and truly flustered, her heart still racing away, heat rising up on her neck and cheeks. She felt almost stunned by her reaction to him. She walked back toward the farm mostly unaware of her surroundings, distracted by images replaying in her mind. A warm smile, messy hair, green eyes behind thick glasses. A kind voice, and the faintest hint of some scent – soap or maybe aftershave. Most of all, a pair of nice-looking hands very, very close to her.

_Jesus,_ she scolded herself. _Get it together, woman._

Her sweet old dog was waiting for her on the front porch, his tail thumping on the wood as she got closer. She flopped down into an old wooden rocking chair and reached down to scratch behind his ears, finally feeling her heart rate start to come down.

“Well, Bud,” she sighed. “I think maybe that was just a little too long without human contact. What do you think?” He rumbled a reply and rested his blocky head on her knee, and the two of them sat there together until the sun began to set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read! Please excuse the length of this chapter - I had trouble making it any shorter.


	4. A Fair Day

At long last, the heat of summer faded into a cool, blustery fall, and Jo was busier than ever with farm work. Her summer plants had produced well, keeping her occupied picking fruit and vegetables up until the very last days of the season. Then she’d spent several days getting her fall plants in the ground – corn, sweet potatoes, and pumpkins – and her new grape vines established on their trellises. The young vines were delicate and required more attention than she’d expected. Soon, blackberries would start to grow in the woods near her farm, and she hoped to gather as many of them as she could for jam. She’d also spoken with Robin about making some repairs to the ancient barn south of her garden, in hopes that she’d eventually be able to keep a couple of dairy cows.

From the time her alarm – or her snoring dog, or her chickens clucking hungrily from their coop out back – woke her in the morning, to the time she fell into bed at night, Jo was working on something. Her most important project was preparing for the Stardew Valley Fair, which was certain to be her best opportunity to make money for the rest of the year. Selling produce to the locals of Pelican Town brought in enough for her day-to-day expenses, but she wouldn’t be able to keep things going next year without a decent profit at the fair. She was spending more time in her kitchen than ever, cooking up batch after batch of jam from the rest of her harvest of blueberries. When she got tired of making jam, she canned pickles instead – her mom had sent her the family recipe, and they were delightfully sweet with just the right amount of vinegar bite.

By the time the day of the fair arrived, Jo was running on fumes and adrenaline. _Work hard for one more day,_ she told herself when she woke up, already exhausted. _Have one more good day today and then you can rest._

Marnie was busy setting up her own booth at the fair, so Jo had accepted the mayor’s offer of a ride into town in his pickup truck. Because he had work to do setting up that morning, though, it came at a price: she was up at dawn, waiting on the front porch just as the sun was creeping up over the horizon, crates of jam and pickle jars at the ready. She had dressed in the cleanest pair of jeans she could find and a button-up plaid shirt, and had taken the time to pull her hair back into a loose braid – she hoped that looking the part of the farm girl might help her sell more.

She heard the crunch of tires on the gravel drive as Lewis pulled up, and she stood to wave hello. He parked the truck in front of the farmhouse and climbed out, tipping his cap in a quick greeting. “Morning!” he called, motioning toward the crates. “Ready to load up?”

He helped her lift the crates into the truck bed, and the two of them set off toward town. Lewis seemed to buzz with energy, tapping his fingers against the gear shift and whistling tunelessly. “I have no idea how you’re this awake,” said Jo, making him laugh.

“It’s an exciting day,” he said. “The fair is the biggest tourism day of the year for our town by a long shot. You’ll see soon enough.”

They arrived at the town square, and Lewis helped her carry her crates to the booth he had designated for her, not far from a cluster of carnival games. She thanked him for his help, and he bustled away to oversee the rest of the setup.

Jo set to work, covering her tables with tablecloths, arranging her jams and pickles until she was satisfied with them, and hanging up the painted canvas sign she’d found in the old barn: _Fuller Family Farm._ She’d cleaned it up as best she could, but some stains remained and it looked weathered. She opened one jar each of jam and pickles, setting samples out into tiny paper cups. When she finished, she flopped ungracefully down into her folding chair and checked the time on her phone. She groaned: there was still an hour before the fair opened. “Christ,” she muttered to herself. _I wish I were still in bed._ She folded her arms in front of her on the table and set her head down, willing the time to pass quickly.

She must have been dreaming about something, because it took hearing her name called twice to wake her up. “Jo?”

She lifted her head and let out a startled yelp when she saw Harvey standing in front of her booth, looking down at her with furrowed brows. “Oh my God,” she said, quickly rubbing her fingers over her eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s nine. The fair just opened,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, embarrassed. “I got here really early and fell asleep.” She rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes once more and shook her head. She looked around and saw a few stray tourists wandering around the fairgrounds. “You’re here early,” she commented, looking up at him. Even on the day of the fair, he was dressed as neatly as ever: slacks and dress shirt with a forest green sweater over top.

“I like to get here before the crowds,” he explained, still frowning at her slightly. “Hold on,” he said abruptly. “I’ll be right back.”

Jo watched him leave, perplexed, and then turned her attention back to the fair. The tourists were still few and far between, and she didn’t see any locals that she recognized. She made an effort to smile and look friendly in the direction of the few people starting to browse the booths.

Harvey appeared again several minutes later, holding a paper cup of hot coffee out toward her. Jo laughed as she gratefully accepted it. “Thank you. Obviously I look about as tired as I feel,” she said.

He dismissed her comment with a quick shake of his head. “I figured I owe you at least a few of these anyway,” he said. He rested his fingertips on the edge of the table between them, looking a bit like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and looked over her booth, taking in the faded old sign and the assortment of jars. “Mind if I try?” he asked, gesturing toward the samples.

“Please do,” Jo said between eager sips of coffee.

He tried the jam first, his eyes widening a bit in approval, and then tried a pickle slice. Jo couldn’t help but chuckle, pleased at his reaction, when he closed his eyes, shook his head slowly, and made a muffled sound of enjoyment. “Really good,” he said when he finished, eyeing the row of samples.

“Have another,” she encouraged him, and he happily obliged.

“You seem to be doing really well with the farm,” he said after his second slice, taking another look over her display. “I’m impressed that you’ve been able to do this much already.”

“Thanks. It’s been a lot of work just to get to this point,” she said. “We’ll see how today goes,” she added, a touch of doubt in her voice as she looked across the fairgrounds.

“Give it another hour,” he assured her. “It always picks up.”

She gave him a small, grateful smile. Silence settled in for a few moments, and Jo studied Harvey as he stood across from her – he looked uncertain, gazing out over the rest of the fair but keeping one hand on the table. “Do you want to keep me company for a while?” she asked, speaking up before she could talk herself out of it. “I could find an extra chair. Unless you want to go see the rest of the fair,” she added.

He shook his head. “The fair’s about the same as it’s been for the last three years,” he said with a chuckle. “Yeah, sure. I’ll stay for a while.”

Jo found him another folding chair and the two of them sat together in her booth, chatting more about her farm work and the fair, as a slow stream of tourists made their way down the rows of displays and carnival games. Jo greeted potential customers as they came by and managed to sell a few jars of jam. Harvey seemed more relaxed outside the clinic, even if only slightly, and their conversation flowed more easily than usual.

“I meant what I said before,” Harvey said, somewhat abruptly after a lull in their conversation. “About being impressed by what you’ve been able to do on the farm. You seem to have really thrown yourself into it.”

Jo pondered his statement for a moment before replying, “I think I was just very ready for a change when I got here. It felt good to have something new to focus on.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve had fun, trying stuff out. Learning how to do things I’ve never done before,” she said, gesturing to the jars that surrounded them.

“You make it seem easy,” he commented, green eyes set on her face.

“What, trying things?” she asked. For a moment, the way he was looking at her – intently, like he was trying to solve a puzzle – reminded her of her check-up several weeks ago. She tried to ignore the sensation of her heartbeat picking up pace ever so slightly.

“Well, yes. But it also seems to me that everything you’ve done on the farm so far has gone well,” he explained.

She snorted. “You just haven’t seen the stuff that didn’t,” she responded, ticking her fingers one by one as she counted off, “Fishing. Building my own chicken coop. Trying to fix the floor in my house. The first few times I tried to make jam.” She looked back over at Harvey and he gave her a quick, thoughtful smile.

“I’ll put it this way,” Jo said, taking time to choose her words carefully. “Before I came here, I worked in a place where I had one, teeny-tiny job, and people told me what I could and couldn’t do all the time. And I did that for eight years. Now I finally get to try things I want to try, and I figure that the worst thing that can happen is it doesn’t work out.”

“You don’t wonder about what happens then? If it doesn’t work out?” he asked, curious.

Again, she took a moment to think before responding. “I’ve thought about it before. If the farm went under, the only option I’d have is to go back to my mom’s and try to find another job somewhere,” she said. “Which wouldn’t be great, I guess. I’m too old to be back at my mom’s,” she said with a soft laugh. “But if that’s what I had to do, I’d have to just do it. Figure out the next step from there.” She paused and then added, “I guess it gives me a good reason to try my best to make it out here.”

He kept his gaze on her for a moment longer, quiet and serious, before he dipped his head once in acknowledgement, and they fell into silence. Gradually, her heartbeat slowed to a calmer pace. 

After a while, a few locals made their way through the fair – Evelyn, Pierre, Gus, Marnie – and Jo marveled at the shift Harvey made seamlessly each time one of them stopped to say hello. He stood to greet each of them, unfailingly polite and attentive, with warm words for the women and firm handshakes for the men. Even more interesting was the way the locals responded to him: their eyes bright with happy surprise to see him at her booth, responding enthusiastically to his questions about their work, their latest home project, the state of their bad knee.

“You have a talent for that,” Jo observed as Harvey took his seat again. He had just finished chatting with Gus about new recipes he was considering for the saloon.

“For what?” he asked, puzzled, reaching for another tiny cup of pickles.

“Making people feel good,” she explained. “Comfortable, I mean. Like you really care about them. It’s not hard to tell from the way they talk to you.”

He looked a little embarrassed. “I do care,” he said quietly. “And it’s part of the job to make people comfortable.”

“I know,” she said. “But you’re not on the job all the time.”

He let out a short laugh. “When you’re the only doctor in town, you kind of are,” he said, the faintest touch of bitterness in his voice. He crunched on another pickle and said, “These are entirely too delicious.”

Jo took his hint: he was not willing to follow that path of conversation any further. “I won’t tell you how much sugar is in them,” she responded playfully.

“Please don’t,” he laughed back, moving to reach for another.

“Harvey,” she chided. “You’re going to eat all of my samples and I’ve barely had any customers yet.”

“Sorry,” he said, leaning back in his chair and raising his hands to stop himself from taking any more. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke up again. “Lewis mentioned that you worked for Joja before you moved here, back when he first introduced us,” he said, “but I realized I have no idea what kind of work you did.”

Jo let out a soft sigh – she understood his curiosity, but she wasn’t keen to relive her Joja days. “I worked in marketing, if you can believe it,” she replied. “I edited images for the print ads.”

He looked surprised, as she’d expected. “I wouldn’t have pictured that for you,” he said softly. “Did you enjoy it?”

“No, not really,” she answered honestly. Her attention was suddenly caught by a large crowd of tourists descending on the fairgrounds. “I think I might have to tell you about that another time, though,” she said, nodding toward the crowd.

Harvey looked up. “The tour buses have arrived,” he said with a chuckle. He glanced back at Jo and smiled at the sight of her widening eyes. “They start showing up mid-morning and they won’t let up until the end of the day,” he explained, standing up from his folding chair. “I better leave you to it. You won’t need me distracting you from all your sales.”

He gave her one crooked grin and waved goodbye before he set off, disappearing into the growing crowd. Jo felt a rush of adrenaline as she watched the first group of tourists make their way toward her booth, eyeing her samples hungrily.

Late that evening, Jo collapsed in her bed at the farmhouse, still in her jeans and plaid shirt. She was exhausted, but her head swam with excitement: by the end of the fair, she’d sold nearly every jar of jam and pickles she’d brought. _You made it_ , she told herself as sleep began to overtake her. _You had one more good day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I am working on the next couple of chapters and hope to post them in a few days. <3


	5. A Workout

The second half of fall brought rapidly cooling temperatures and, to Jo’s relief, a much more manageable workload. She had taken a day or two to recuperate after the fair, tending to only the most necessary farm chores, and then it was time to start focusing on her fall harvest, gathering blackberries, and getting her house and chicken coop ready for cold winter nights.

On a cool and misty morning, Jo borrowed Marnie’s pickup truck to take her pumpkin harvest into town. She loaded the heavy gourds one after another into the truck bed, grateful that she’d built up some muscle over the last few months – by the time she was done, she could already tell her back and shoulders would be sore when she woke up the next morning.

She drove toward the general store, her first stop of the day, and took a quick glance at the clinic as she drove past. She hadn’t stopped in since the summer, but had met Maru at the park several times to catch up. Maru had introduced her to her friend Penny, the local teacher, and Jo began to feel like she was finally making friends. She enjoyed hearing about their lives, Maru’s ambitious ideas about teaching science to Penny’s students, and occasionally some gossip about the other young people in town.

Harvey was harder to track down: she didn’t have his personal number, and he hadn’t made an effort to reach her the way Maru had. But whenever she spotted him outside the clinic – walking in the town square or the park, or on rare occasions, nursing a glass of wine in the saloon – she made a point to speak to him. He usually seemed glad to see her, but Jo wondered whether he was simply being polite to her, the way he was with everyone else.

Jo parked in front of Pierre’s store, grabbed a pumpkin by the stem in each hand, and carried them inside. When he heard the bell ring, Pierre stepped out from an aisle where he’d been restocking shelves and lifted a hand to her in greeting. “It’s Farmer Jo,” he called out happily. “And you’ve got pumpkins for me!”

“Yes I do,” Jo replied, smiling back at him. “I’ve got a truckload out front. Half of them are for you, and the other half I’ve promised to Lewis for the Spirit’s Eve carnival,” she said, setting the two pumpkins down at her feet. Her arms felt strained by the weight of them. “I’m sorry to ask, I know you’ve got work to do, but I could use some help unloading.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m happy to help. Why don’t you take one of those back to Caroline, and I’ll start unloading the rest?” he said, nodding toward a door in the back of the store. “Right through there. She’s just finishing up with her exercise group. She’s been looking forward to these pumpkins, so you’ll really make her day if you surprise her with one.”

Jo laughed. “Sure,” she said, lifting up one of the pumpkins and cradling it under her arm. She made her way through the door, coming into a narrow hallway that led back to Pierre and Caroline’s living room. An energetic pop song she hadn’t heard before was playing, coming to an end just as she entered, and she heard Caroline’s voice call out: “Well done, everyone, great workout today!”

She heard the sounds of movement and voices, and then saw Marnie heading down the hall toward her. “Well hey, honey,” Marnie called out with a smile, looking flushed from her workout. “How’s my truck working out for you this morning?”

“Just fine, Marnie, thanks,” Jo said. “So what is this? I didn’t know Caroline led an exercise class.”

“Every Tuesday,” she replied enthusiastically, clapping Jo on the shoulder as she passed by. “Come join us sometime. I’ve got a couple errands to run, then I’ll come back by for the truck, alright?”

Jo nodded in agreement and headed toward the living room. She saw Caroline chatting with a couple of the other women of Pelican Town, and nearly jumped out of her skin when someone suddenly came around the corner, almost running her over.

“Oh, God,” she yelped, startled, taking a step back. “I’m sorry—" Her eyes widened in surprise. “ _Harvey?_ ”

She hadn’t recognized him at first. She’d never seen him wearing anything other than dress clothes and his white coat, but there he was, in a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark blue long-sleeved t-shirt that looked like he’d owned it since his college days. He had a gym bag over his shoulder, and held a chunky screw-top water bottle in one hand and a dingy-looking towel in the other. His face was flushed bright pink all over, and beads of sweat were beginning to run down from his hairline. His wavy brown hair was more unruly than she’d ever seen it before.

The moment he realized who he had nearly collided with, he winced and turned as if he meant to walk back into the living room.

“No,” Jo laughed, “Don’t run. It’s too late. I already saw you.”

He sighed and turned back to face her, placing his forearm on the wall to lean against it. He was still breathing hard from the workout, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He pushed his glasses up on top of his head and ran the towel over his face, mopping the sweat off his forehead. Jo wasn’t certain, but he might have been blushing underneath his post-workout flush. “Hello, Jo,” he said at last.

“Hello,” she repeated, unable to contain the grin that spread over her face. “Been sweating it to the oldies?” she giggled, “Or is this more of a Zumba situation?” She looked him up and down again, still baffled by the sight of him in casual clothes. It occurred to her that he’d probably once been lanky – he was long long-limbed, broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip – but adulthood had filled him out and softened his edges.

“Please, Jo, don’t,” he pleaded. He was having trouble looking her in the eye. “I’m already embarrassed enough that you’ve seen me here.”

“Sorry,” she replied, a bit taken aback. “I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen you in—"

“I know,” he interrupted, gradually catching his breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

She frowned, puzzled, and set her free hand on her hip. “It’s just workout clothes, Harvey. It’s not the end of the world.”

He managed to look her full in the face. “I guess it’s more about you knowing that I do dance aerobics,” he said, and then added, “With all of the middle-aged women in town.”

“You can do whatever you like, Harvey,” Jo replied gently.

He winced and wiped his brow once more with the towel. “It’s not so much that I like it, as it is that I’ve got to try to get exercise somehow,” he sighed. “And there aren’t a lot of options around here. We don’t all have farms to work on all day to keep us in shape.”

“I know that,” she said, feeling the beginnings of frustration building up inside her. “I was just teasing you a little, I’m not actually judging you.”

“Sorry,” he said, directing his eyes to the floor, freshly embarrassed again.

Jo watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he’d speak, but found that she quickly ran out of patience. “I’ve got pumpkins to deliver,” she said, shifting the pumpkin from one arm to the other and moving to pass him.

“Wait, Jo, just one more thing, please,” he said, moving closer to her and looking at her seriously. She stifled a sigh and waited a moment while he gathered his thoughts. He smelled like fresh sweat and cheap laundry detergent.

“Listen. I think we’re getting to be friends at this point, so I’m asking you – please don’t tell anyone that you saw me here,” he said softly.

Jo felt heat creeping up her neck. “Harvey, you’re in here with half the town anyway,” she said, trying to control the irritation in her voice. “And I don’t know why you’d think I’d go around telling people in the first place.”

He sighed, exasperation flashing across his face for an instant. “I know. It’s not like no one knows. What I’m trying to ask is – don’t make fun of me for it, if you do talk about it with anyone.”

She frowned at him, her eyes narrowing. “Now I _really_ don’t know why you think I’d make fun of you to anyone. For anything,” she replied in a low voice.

His eyes dropped to the floor again, his cheeks burning, his expression pained. She waited a moment, hoping for something – an apology, an explanation – but he didn’t speak again.

“I’ve got to go, Harvey,” she said, making an effort to soften her tone. “I have a lot to do. I’ll talk to you later.” She moved around him, wrapping both her arms around the pumpkin and making her way toward Caroline.

****

Later that night, Jo wrapped herself tightly in the thick quilt on her bed, waiting to warm up enough to be able to fall asleep. Her dog was curled up by her feet, in the spot he’d recently claimed for himself, snoring and twitching lightly as he dreamed. Jo was tired, but her mind was too awake for sleep, replaying her encounter with Harvey earlier that day. She felt herself being pulled like a tug-of-war rope between guilt and irritation, recalling first how she’d teased him, and then how he’d – for some reason – assumed she’d turn him into the latest piece of town gossip. She puzzled over what she’d done to give him that impression, and then began to doubt that she actually had. As the night crept on, the thought came to her that his embarrassment may not have had much to do with her at all.

She finally fell into a restless sleep and when she woke the next morning, she felt certain of little else than she wanted to find him. She finished her morning chores and then headed toward town, hoping that the walk would help her figure out what she wanted to say when she did.

Jo’s first stop was the clinic, where Maru greeted her and told her that Harvey had gone out for a lunch break.

“Do you know where he might have gone?” she asked, discouraged.

“I’m not sure,” said Maru, frowning slightly with concern. “Is there something I can help you with, Jo?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s nothing medical,” she said. “I just need to talk to him.”

Maru studied her curiously. “He goes to the park a lot, on nice days like this,” she said. “I’d try there first.”

Jo made her way toward the park, passing by the fountain and the run-down playground before she spotted him on a bench. For a moment, she thought he was asleep: his head was thrown back over the back of the bench, eyes half-closed, with earphones in his ears. He had sprawled out a bit, his hands in his coat pockets, his long legs stretched out in front of him. She smiled to see him looking so relaxed and unselfconscious, but her stomach fluttered with nerves.

Unsure that he’d be able to hear her, she didn’t speak, but instead walked closer until she was in his line of sight. He sat up abruptly when he caught sight of her, eyes widening, and hastily took out his earphones.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he replied, looking frozen in place, giving her the impression of a wild animal trying to decide whether it should run.

“Can I sit down?” she asked, and he shifted to make space for her. She sat next to him, careful to leave some space between them – he looked like he might bolt if she got too close. They sat in silence for a few moments as Jo prepared to speak, considering her words carefully. Harvey relaxed somewhat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and looking toward the ground.

He surprised her by speaking up first. “I think I owe you an apology,” he said softly.

“I think I owe you one, too,” she replied, the words coming to her more easily now. “I shouldn’t have teased you about your workout class, first of all. And I didn’t need to get so defensive.”

Although he kept his gaze on the ground, shuffling one foot restlessly in the dry grass, she could tell he was listening carefully. After a short, thoughtful pause, he replied, “I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t really think that you would talk about me – belittle me to other people,” he finished, looking up to meet her eyes.

“I know,” said Jo softly. A silence settled in between them, but she could tell from his thoughtful expression that Harvey had more to say.

He took a deep breath and sat upright, looking ahead as he spoke. “Sometimes my mind goes straight to the worst case scenario. It’s not rational,” he explained, “but I don’t always understand that in the moment.” He turned to look at her again, searching her face for a reaction. “And then I act as if that worst case scenario is already happening, or about to happen, and – well. I guess you saw.”

Jo nodded, thoughtful, her brows slightly furrowed. “So the worst case scenario was everyone finding out that I saw you,” she said gently.

He sighed. “Yes. And then I treated you like you were about to go shout it out in the town square,” he said, removing his glasses with one hand and running the other first through his hair and then down across his face.

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I think I get it,” she said. There was something in her that still felt unsettled, and she paused to take stock of the feeling. “I guess I sort of understand you being embarrassed about – about doing aerobics with all the women,” she said. “But I’m not sure I understand why you’re that concerned about what other people think about it. I don’t think taking care of yourself is something you need to feel ashamed of.”

He considered her words for a few moments. “The funny thing is, I think that’s exactly what I would say to one of my patients,” he said with a hollow laugh. “But it’s hard to get the same message across to myself.”

She gave a small, warm smile. “I just don’t know that people in town would judge you as much as you think.”

“You may be right,” he said, his expression beginning to lighten. “But I believe you may think people here have a higher opinion of me than they actually do.”

She snorted. “I’ve seen you with people. I can tell how they feel about you. Evelyn thinks you hung the moon.”

“You’ve seen me with _some_ people,” he corrected her. “For every Evelyn in this town, there’s another person who will tell you I’m some know-it-all outsider who’s just here to pry into their personal lives.”

“Oh, so a George,” Jo replied, grinning, and she was gratified when she got a real laugh out of him in response. They lapsed into silence again, much more comfortably this time.

She realized she had one more thing she needed to say to him. “You said yesterday that you thought we were starting to be friends.”

He looked at her with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “I did,” he replied softly.

“I think we are too,” she said. “I like spending time with you, and I want to get to know you better.”

Harvey’s cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, suddenly looking shy. She waited for a moment, but he didn’t speak.

“I get the impression, though, that it’s hard for you to really be friends with people here when you’re also their doctor,” she continued.

He let out a small sigh and nodded in agreement. “It’s a bit of a gray area, when you’re in such a small town,” he explained. “But I do have to be careful about keeping certain boundaries with people.”

“What if I got another doctor?” she asked.

He looked surprised, but his expression quickly shifted to concern. “I don’t want you to have to do that,” he said. “It’s a long distance to travel to get to another doctor.”

“I don’t mind,” she responded. “I don’t have reason to go too often. And I’m assuming you’ll still patch me up in an emergency.”

“Of course,” he said seriously, eyes locked on her face – it was that same intent, thoughtful expression she’d seen before, as if he were solving a riddle.

“Alright then. I’ll find another doctor. You’re off the hook, Dr. Harvey,” she said wryly.

He nodded. “Maru has a doctor in the city that she likes,” he said. “I’ll get her name for you.”

“Thanks.” Jo checked the time on her phone and stood up from the bench. “I better get back to the farm,” she said. “I’ll see you around, then?”

“Yes,” he replied, his expression still somewhat bemused. “Take care, Jo.”

As she made the long walk back to the farm, Jo felt lighter than she had in a long time. She felt warm despite the chill in the air, and a smile crept involuntarily over her face when she crossed the threshold into her old farmhouse. The feeling, she realized, was the beginnings of closeness – of belonging. She felt, for the first time since she’d packed up her life and moved into the valley, like she was home.


	6. A Birthday

On a cold winter morning, Jo bundled up in warm layers and a worn leather coat of her grandfather’s, prepared for a day of work with Robin in her old barn. Since the end of her fall harvest, she’d had no garden to tend to, and had shifted her focus to preparations for the upcoming year. She envisioned an expanse of pasture with cows and goats, an irrigation system in her garden, oak barrels filled with wine from her own grapes –but before she could make any of those dreams a reality, she needed a barn that wasn’t a health hazard and, even more importantly, a fully-functioning farmhouse. Her winter days became dedicated to repair work with Robin, who offered her a discount on the cost of her work in exchange for Jo’s assistance with the labor.

Jo didn’t mind the work – it gave her something to do. On days when Robin wasn’t there, she felt restless. She would wander the farm or the forest when it wasn’t too cold or snowing, and when it was, she continued cleaning out the farmhouse. She unpacked boxes of things that had been left behind by her grandparents, her mother, and her aunts, back when they had all lived there – years before Jo was born. She found a few family photos and mementos, which she carefully packed and mailed to her mother, along with books, a box of records, and some clothes. She had found the leather coat up in the attic and claimed it as her own – it was soft and warm, and while most of the clothes she’d found had gotten musty, it still had a pleasant leather smell that comforted her. She wore it most days that she went to work with Robin.

The partially-frozen ground crunched under her work boots as she made her way across the field toward her barn and found that Robin had already arrived. “Morning,” Jo called out, and Robin looked up and dipped her head in greeting.

“I cut some more boards last night for this back wall,” Robin said, nodding toward the trailer hitched to her pickup truck. “I think we should be able to finish it up today.”

“I’ve got to cut it a little short today,” Jo said apologetically. “So we might not. But I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

Robin shrugged. “No worries. We’ll do what we can with the time you have,” she said, pulling on a pair of thick work gloves. “Ready?”

The two women worked together, carefully pulling down dry-rotted boards from the outside of the barn’s back wall and replacing them with sturdy new ones. Jo had gained some strength in her first year on the farm, but she barely kept up with Robin, whose years of experience were evident not only in her strength but in her efficiency and her eye for detail. Jo admired her skill and tried to learn what she could from working alongside her.

By early afternoon, they’d made good progress, and Jo was sweating under her layers despite the midwinter cold. After they finished hanging up one of the last few boards, she flopped down unceremoniously onto the ground, letting out a tired, heavy exhalation. “I think I better call it quits before it gets any later,” she announced.

Robin paused in her work and looked her over. “Alright,” she said. “We got a lot done, so I’ll take off too. What do you have going on today, by the way?” she asked curiously.

“It’s Dr. Harvey’s birthday,” she explained, slowly catching her breath. “I have a present to take to him.”

“Oh,” Robin’s brows lifted in surprise. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t think he advertises it,” Jo replied. “I only knew because it was in that community calendar thing that Lewis gave me when I moved here.”

“I suppose I should take a look at that more often,” Robin laughed. “Well, wish him a happy birthday from me.”

An hour later, Jo emerged from the farmhouse, scrubbed clean and in fresh clothes, still wearing the leather coat. She carried her birthday gift for Harvey – a bottle of blackberry wine, made in a small glass fermenter in her own kitchen – and headed for the clinic.

Although the building projects had kept her busy, Jo had still had a little more time than usual to socialize in the winter. She stopped in to visit Marnie and Evelyn now and then, and continued to meet up with Maru and Penny regularly. A few times, Jo or Maru managed to persuade Harvey to come out to the saloon with them – the two women usually indulging in cheap beer, and Harvey always with a glass of wine. They received a few looks from the bar regulars the first time they came in together, but soon enough they got used to the odd new group that popped in occasionally.

Harvey tended to stay quiet, but it seemed to Jo that he enjoyed being around them. She found herself observing him - taking note of when their conversation seemed to catch his interest, when he got distracted, what made him laugh. It was gratifying to get a laugh out of him. Even after Jo told him she would get a new doctor, he’d stayed reserved, but she hadn’t lost interest in getting to know him.

It started snowing on her walk over to the clinic. It was late afternoon, but the sun was already starting to set. Jo arrived at the clinic and pulled the door handle only to find it locked – she checked the time and realized they had just closed for the day. “Shoot,” she muttered. She felt at a loss for a moment, and then knocked on the door loudly, hoping he was still close enough to hear her.

A light clicked on inside, and she breathed a sigh of relief as he unlocked and opened the door. He gave her a worried once-over, and she could tell he was trying to determine what medical emergency had befallen her this time. She stifled a laugh, instead holding up the bottle of wine and offering a wide smile. “Hi Harvey. Happy birthday.”

“Oh,” he responded, brows lifting in surprise. “Wow. Thank you, Jo.” He glanced around outside for a moment, then looked back down at her. “You walked through the snow? To tell me happy birthday?”

“Ye-es,” she answered, drawing the word out into two slow syllables. “I’m actually getting snowed on right this very moment, wishing you happy birthday. I also brought you wine,” she said, lifting the bottle up again toward him.

Harvey took the bottle and shook his head, flustered, stepping back from the door. “Yes. Sorry. You should come in. I mean,” he stammered, “Please come in out of the snow. If you’d like.”

She couldn’t help but giggle, and he gave his head another hard shake as she stepped past him into the clinic. “Good Lord. Let me try again,” he said, and took one slow breath before he spoke. “Hello, Jo, it’s nice to see you. Thank you for the wine,” he said. “And for coming to see me on my birthday.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, grinning. “That was better.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. I’m not always the best with surprises,” he said as he took a closer look at the wine bottle. “You made this?”

“I did. I got a home kit to try out in my kitchen,” she explained. “Trying to make sure I like making wine before I turn it into a whole operation. It’s blackberry – the grape wine isn’t ready yet. This is the very first bottle, so consider yourself lucky,” she added.

He raised his eyebrows. “I can’t just take your first bottle of wine,” he said, thinking something through. He handed the bottle back to her. “I’ll be right back. Take this back to my office – second door on the right. We’ll open it together,” he said, and walked toward the back of the clinic.

Surprised, Jo headed down the hallway and found the door to his office, letting herself in hesitantly and clicking on the light switch. She could hear his footsteps as he made his way up the stairs to his apartment on the second floor. She looked around: a simple desk with an ancient-looking computer, paper files in neat stacks, and a number of rumpled bits of scrap paper with scribbled-on notes. She sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk and set down the bottle.

He returned a moment later with a pair of wine glasses in one hand and a corkscrew in another. He set them down on the desk after hastily pushing some papers off to the side. “Excuse the mess,” he said, and held the corkscrew out toward her. “Want to do the honors?”

She shook her head. “It’s your birthday gift. You go ahead.”

He opened the bottle, and the scent of the wine drifted out toward them. “Smells like blackberries,” he said. “Also smells strong. Well done,” he chuckled, pouring into the two glasses. He handed her one, then raised his in a toast.

“To your very first winemaking venture,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. She grinned back and tapped her glass to his, then lifted it to her lips, excited to take her first taste.

As soon as the wine touched her tongue, Jo realized she’d made a mistake. Her eyes watered and her throat burned as she swallowed it down hastily to avoid spitting it out. _Oh God_ , she thought, looking across the desk at Harvey, willing her mouth to open fast enough to warn him – but she saw she was too late.

He’d gone red in the face, eyes welling up, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a cough. He set down his glass and sat back in his chair, wincing as he thumped his fist against his chest once or twice.

“Oh, God, Harvey, I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out. “I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry,” she sputtered, feeling her face growing hot as much from embarrassment as from the burn of bitter alcohol.

He shook his head, trying to regain his composure. When he met her eyes, she was relieved to see that he was laughing through the coughing. Finally able to speak again, he said, “I don’t know how you did it, but you skipped wine and went straight to vinegar.”

A laugh bubbled up from Jo’s burning throat and soon they had both dissolved into laughter. She wiped a tear from her watering eye and said, “Jesus, Harvey, I swear I wasn’t trying to poison you on your birthday.”

“I suppose I believe you,” he said. As they recovered from their laughter, he looked at her thoughtfully. “You did say not everything you’ve tried has worked out.”

“No. See? Now you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She shook her head. “Maybe my next bottle will be better. I promise I’ll taste-test it myself first next time,” she said, shifting to stand up from her chair. “I’m sorry. I’ll go and let you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Wait,” he said, standing up before she could. “You don’t have to go. Unless you want to,” he added, a touch of nerves in his voice. “I’ve got a bottle upstairs. We could have that instead. It’d be nice to spend time with you.”

“Sure,” she said, eyes widening slightly. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

He headed upstairs again, and returned a few minutes later with the bottle of wine. “JojaMart’s finest,” he explained as he poured them each a glass.

This time, Jo raised her glass first to lead their toast. “To your birthday,” she said, and their glasses made a pleasant _clink_ together.

****

An hour later, Jo and Harvey were each two glasses of wine in, and had split the remainder of the bottle between the two of them. Jo felt pleasantly tipsy, her limbs slightly heavy, her cheeks warm. Harvey had the lightest bit of alcohol flush as well, which she found inexplicably distracting. Their conversation meandered easily from topic to topic – discussions on farm work, medicine, places they’d each lived in the city. He got her talking about herself again, asking about her college days, soccer, her old friends. He asked her what Jo was short for – Josephine, after her great-grandmother, and no, she answered emphatically, he should not call her that.

Then, somehow, he got her talking about the work she did for Joja, reminding her that she’d never gotten to tell him about it at the fair.

“Oh jeez,” she said, leaning heavily on the desk, propped up on her elbows. “I told you it was marketing, right?”

“Yes. You said you were an editor,” he said. “How did you get started with that?”

“I studied graphic design in college,” she explained, somewhat somber. “And communication. I thought it made sense to get into advertising somehow.” She took a sip of her wine. “Joja was one of the only places that was hiring people right out of school. I thought I’d gotten so lucky,” she said with a snort.

He studied her from across the desk, listening carefully.

“I got an entry-level job, so when I started all they would let me do was the next-to-last checks, to make sure there were no mistakes and everything would print correctly,” she continued. “It was boring, but I figured it would get better once I got promoted. They promoted me once,” she said bitterly, “in eight years of working there. Once, and it was at the end of my first year. I thought that I’d keep moving up and get to start doing real work. Designing things, making real decisions.” She shook her head. “They weren’t interested in anything else I had to offer. So I just kept doing my little checks, making sure other people’s work stayed in the right boxes.”

Harvey frowned, his brow furrowed, his eyes locked on her in that riddle-solving way that still caught her off-guard. “But you stayed,” he said gently.

“I kept thinking if I just worked harder, and tried to speak up when I got the chance, they’d eventually notice,” she responded. “You should have seen me. When I started at Joja, I had friends who lived in the city too. We went out and had fun. I found a soccer league so I could keep playing. I had energy, and ideas, and stuff to do. And it all just fell away, bit by bit, because I put everything into this soul-sucking job.”

He stayed silent, looking at her with a touch of sadness in his eyes.

She kept talking. “Eventually I figured out that I hated having a boss. So then I thought if I could save up enough money, I’d just start my own design business. Then I could at least work for myself, and help people promote their businesses – you know. Something better than making sure a giant corporation had perfect ads.” She pushed herself up from the desk and leaned back in her chair. “But it was really hard to save up enough to leave, and I ended up feeling – just stuck there. I turned thirty and felt like I had nothing to show for it.”

Those intent green eyes were still studying her carefully. “And then you found the farm.”

She nodded. “My mom was the one who reminded me that I had the right to it, if I wanted it. That’s what my granddad had put in his will. I never thought I’d actually have anything to do with the farm, but eventually I realized that it was a way out of what I was doing.” She paused to drink the last gulp of wine from her glass. “So here I am, and it turns out that being my own boss was the dream all along. I just wish I had figured it out earlier.”

A heaviness had settled into the room. Harvey’s continued silence became overwhelming. She gave her head a quick shake, trying to cast off the heavy feeling, and then narrowed her eyes at him. “I see how you do it now. You get people talking about themselves,” she said in mock accusation.

His mouth twitched up into a faint smile. “What do you mean?”

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I know you say not everyone in this town is a fan of yours, but I can tell that plenty of them are, and I see how you pull them in.” She leaned in a little closer to him, giving him the best serious look she could muster through a light haze of wine. “You get people talking about themselves and you make them feel like the only thing in the whole universe.”

Harvey’s eyes widened. “I don’t know about that,” he said quietly.

“I do,” she replied. “I think you know what I mean. And I think it keeps you from having to talk about yourself,” she said, the wine making her bold.

“I’ve told you that I have to keep boundaries with people here,” he said, the slightest hint of a warning in his tone.

“I know you do,” she said. “But you’re not my doctor anymore. I’ve talked for ages about myself and there are things I want to know about you.”

He thought for a moment, appearing to weigh his options, before replying, “Okay. What do you want to know?”

Jo felt her mind go blank for an instant, so surprised by his response that she couldn’t recall anything she’d wanted to ask him. She grasped onto the first thing that came back to her: “What birthday is this for you?”

“It’s my thirty-fifth.”

She paused, considering her next question. “Why do you go by ‘Dr. Harvey?’ Why not your last name?”

He laughed. “I thought it would make people more comfortable with me.”

“Did it work?” she grinned at him.

He shook his head, laughing, and she continued with her questions. She learned that he’d lived in the valley for almost four years now; that he’d moved here from the city after his residency; that the only thing he missed about the city was the food. She learned that he’d never liked sports but played the trumpet in orchestra during middle and high school. He preferred dark chocolate over milk chocolate and sweet pickles over sour. He liked jazz and staying up late reading a good book.

She learned he had a brother. And a father who was also a doctor. She learned that if he hadn’t become a general practitioner, he’d have pursued cardiology – like his father had done.

“Do you like being a doctor?” she asked. The alcohol had started to make her head float.

“Yes. I do.”

“Did you always want to be a doctor?”

“No,” he answered. He didn’t elaborate, and fixed his gaze on her in a way that made it clear he wasn’t planning to.

She frowned at him for a moment. His answers were becoming short, and while she was still leaning toward him across the desk, he was sitting back in his chair with his arms folded. He was closing off to her, and it made a part of her – a part made more impulsive by the wine – want to open him back up. She could see that pushing in this same direction would get her nowhere, though, so she changed tacks. “When was your last serious relationship?”

The light flush of alcohol on his face deepened a shade or two. He paused briefly before responding, “During my residency.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the desk, pondering her next move. “Have you dated anyone since then?”

“No,” he replied, keeping still in his chair, leaning away from her.

“You’ve never dated anyone in town before?”

“No,” he repeated, a touch of irritation in his voice. “I can’t date patients.”

“But surely you’ve been interested in someone here before,” she said. Her heart was beating quickly. She was riding the impulse to keep pushing him, but a small, more sober part of her rang alarm bells in her head.

“I can’t be _interested in_ patients,” he said, now beginning to lean in toward her, his arms on the desk, defending himself.

Jo held his gaze and paused for a moment before she pressed again. “Not even Maru?” she asked softly.

“Maru is ten years younger than me, and my employee.” His tone was dark – he’d had enough.

“That doesn’t mean you haven’t thought about—"

“ _Josephine_.” He was leaning as far forward as she was now, his eyes dark and intense. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

Jo kept her eyes on his for another second before she dropped her forehead onto her arms on the desk. “Sorry,” she mumbled, a flood of embarrassment washing her over with uncomfortable heat. “That was inappropriate.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, his voice still dark but softer.

She took a few moments to collect herself before she lifted her head off the desk, hoping the shame on her face wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “It’s getting late,” she said, pushing her chair back to stand. “I need to go home and feed my dog.” She picked up the leather coat off the back of her chair and put it on, moving toward his office door.

Harvey rose to follow her, quiet, and they made their way to the lobby. Through the window, they saw that a light blanket of snow had covered the ground, and a few stray flakes were still drifting down. The moon reflected brightly on the snow.

He paused by the door and looked at her with concern. “I wish I had a car to give you a ride home,” he said apologetically. “I hate to think of you walking all the way back in this.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “It’s only about a mile, and the snow’s stopping anyway.”

“I could call around and see if someone—"

“Harvey,” she interrupted him, needing the kindness to stop, needing to get outside. “It’s going to be okay. If we’re really going to be friends,” she said, “I need you to worry about me a little less.”

He nodded, his expression serious but warm. “I can only promise you I’ll try,” he said softly. After a pause, he held out his hand to her. “Give me your phone.”

Perplexed, Jo fished her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. He tapped on the screen for a few moments and then handed it back to her. It was opened to her contacts, and she saw that he had added himself as simply _Harvey._

“If we’re going to be friends, and you need me to worry about you less,” he explained, “then I need you to text me when you get home.”

She gave a small smile and put the phone back in her pocket. “I can do that.”

“Thank you again for coming,” he said, the last trace of irritation gone from his tone. “It was a nice way to spend my birthday.”

She nodded and gave him a short wave goodbye as she headed out into the snow.

****

As soon as she passed through the door of her farmhouse, Jo paused to send the promised text: _I made it home._

Her old dog greeted her sleepily, and she refilled his bowl in the kitchen. She shucked off her coat and layers of warm clothing as she headed back toward her bedroom, suddenly exhausted. While she washed her face and brushed her teeth, flashes of shame shot through her body every time she remembered her questions, his embarrassment, the way he’d had to shut her down. She wanted to place all of the blame for her behavior on the wine, but she knew she hadn’t been drunk.

 _Why did I keep pushing him like that?_ She asked herself as she climbed into bed.

Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up from her nightstand to see Harvey’s reply: _Good night Jo. Sleep well._

 _You know why,_ came the answer from some deeper, quieter part of her mind. It came to her in images and in sensations: his face, his eyes, his hair, the sound of his voice, her heart picking up pace when he came too close to her, the way she felt when those eyes were on her. Like she was the only thing in the universe.

She pulled her quilt up over her head and groaned.

“ _Fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully y'all don't mind an extra-long chapter cause that's what this one ended up being. It was fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed!


	7. A Crush

For the next two days, Jo threw herself headfirst into her work on the barn with Robin. They finished replacing the exterior boards and were now completing the final step of the process: building new doors. While Robin installed the mechanical parts for the oversized sliding doors, Jo nailed boards into place on their new frames. She placed her feelings into each nail and carefully but decisively buried each one into the wood, working at a pace that was deliberate but quick enough so she didn’t have time to think.

She craved the exhaustion and dead-to-the-world sleep that came after a hard day’s labor. She wanted muscles sore enough to keep her mind from wandering back to the feelings that had surfaced the other night. She wanted to close her eyes without seeing Harvey’s face.

As the sun began to set, Robin and Jo finished hanging the new doors and setting them in their tracks. Robin stood back and admired her handiwork while Jo tested them out, sliding each one open and enjoying the satisfyingly smooth way they moved. She stood back with Robin and looked over their finished product, a tired smile creeping over her face.

Robin clapped her on the back. “Good work,” she said. “All it needs is a coat of paint once the weather gets a little warmer.”

Jo took off her work gloves and shoved them into her pockets. “So do you want to talk over plans for the farmhouse, then?” she asked. “We can get started tomorrow.”

Robin gave her a skeptical look. “I’m going home, Jo. And you should too. Take a day off. I’ll call you tomorrow to talk over the plans, and we can start the day after that.”

Jo’s heart sank, but she nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, I think I’ll see you later tonight, right?” said Robin. “Maru says you’re coming by before the Night Market.”

“Yeah,” Jo answered. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Robin gave her shoulder a squeeze and headed back to her truck. Jo waved as Robin pulled away and then made her way back to the house, her mind already running with ideas to keep her occupied the next day. She could start repairing the pasture fence. She could walk down to Marnie’s and talk to her about buying a couple of young dairy cows this spring. She could clear out overgrown brush on the outskirts of the farm.

It was important to keep herself busy. Jo had had plenty of short-lived crushes before, brief attractions to people that faded when she let herself become absorbed in some other distraction. What she felt for Harvey now, she told herself, did not have to grow into anything more than one of those crushes if she didn’t let it.

She could find plenty of work to do tomorrow, and for tonight, there was the Night Market with Maru and Penny. Jo soothed her tired muscles with a hot shower, changed into clean clothes and headed out to Maru’s house.

****

The sun had long since set, and it was freezing cold in Maru’s backyard – she and her family lived high up in the hills, and Jo had felt the temperature drop as she made her way up from the farm. She and Penny sat side by side on an old quilt in the dry grass, pressed together for warmth, while Maru fiddled with her telescope several yards uphill.

“Maru,” Penny called, shivering against Jo despite her puffy coat, hat, and gloves. “It’s freezing and it’s getting late. We’re going to miss the whole market.”

“Stop being babies,” Maru called back, adjusting her telescope by fractions of an inch at a time. “I’ve almost got it.”

“Hurry up!” Penny replied.

“The more you talk to me, the longer it’s going to take.”

Penny let out a little sigh. “Why can’t she like some of the summer constellations? It’s always the dead of winter when she wants to get the telescope out,” she muttered to Jo.

Jo flung her arms around Penny’s shoulders, wrapping her up in a sideways hug and trying to rub some warmth into her arms. “Next time I’ll know to bring a blanket,” she laughed.

They went quiet for a few minutes to allow Maru to concentrate. From inside the house, Jo could hear music playing faintly – Robin and Demetrius were listening to something. It reminded Jo of a question she’d been meaning to ask them. “Do either of you have a record player?”

“What? No. My dad and I have the house wired up for audio,” said Maru, looking up from the telescope, mildly irritated at the interruption.

Penny shook her head. “We’ve just got an old radio.”

“Why?” asked Maru, curious.

“I found a box of my mom’s old records at the house,” Jo explained. “I’m going to send them back to her – I think she’d like to have them. But I was hoping I could listen to them myself first.”

“I’m sure somebody around here’s got one,” said Maru thoughtfully. “I’ll try to find out.” She turned her attention back to the stars, making a few more adjustments before calling out, “Got it! Orion _and_ Gemini. Come see!”

Penny and Jo scrambled to their feet and hurried over. Maru let each of them take a look through the telescope while she explained the constellations they could see. The stars were beautiful against the cold sky, but even more than the stars, Jo enjoyed Maru’s obvious delight in them.

The three women stood together in the quiet, gazing upward at the sky, allowing themselves to feel small under its vastness. It eased Jo’s restless mind, even if only for a few minutes.

Penny was the first to interrupt the silence, winding her arm through Maru’s and saying gently, “We really are going to miss the market if we don’t get going.”

“Alright,” Maru said reluctantly. “Let’s go.” They walked back toward the house, piled into Maru’s car, and headed out.

Once at the beach, the three of them made their way across the sand to the harbor, where an odd collection of boats were docked, dimly lit by lanterns and starlight reflected off the water. The chill in the air, the quiet rushing of waves against the shore, and the smell of spices gave the place an air of magic. Although it was a little warmer here than on the mountainside, there was a cold breeze blowing off the ocean, and Jo’s breath formed clouds in front of her.

Maru smiled as she watched Jo’s face light up at the sight of the market. “Your first Night Market. I knew you’d like it. You have to try some of the food, it’s the best part,” she said, leading their little group out onto the pier.

The three women browsed through the market for a while together, and then gradually separated as different vendors caught their eyes. Jo held a cup of hot coffee to warm her hands as she browsed idly through a collection of fabrics, feeling more at ease than she had in days. She didn’t have money to buy anything of significance: she was saving the remainder of her profit from her fall harvest for her new cows and, if she could find one at the right price, a used pickup truck.

Her browsing was interrupted by a voice calling out, “Hey, Jo.” She looked up and saw Maru heading toward her down the pier. “I found a record player for you.”

Jo’s heart leapt up into her throat when she realized it was Harvey walking alongside Maru. _Of course you have a record player_ , she thought, half affectionate, half vexed. He looked at her with an open, curious expression. He was dressed in a black wool coat, a scarf, and to Jo’s surprise, a pair of dark jeans, and he walked with his hands in his coat pockets to keep them warm. The end of his nose had turned pink in the frigid air, and the wind had blown his hair out of place, a few stray waves sticking out in rogue directions.

“Hi, Harvey,” she said, suddenly aware that she had no idea how she ought to act or feel. A wave of embarrassment ran through her, left over from her behavior on his birthday, and mixed with flutters of nervous attraction. She clutched her cup of coffee, holding it up in both hands at the level of her chest, as if it could protect her from her discomfort.

“Hello, Jo,” he replied. “Maru says you’ve got some records you want to listen to?”

Maru briefly glanced between them, her brow slightly furrowed, and then nudged Jo’s arm. “I’m going to leave in about fifteen minutes, so if you want a ride home, meet us in the parking lot, okay?”

Jo nodded and turned her attention back to Harvey. “Yeah, they’re my mom’s. I found them in the farmhouse but there’s no record player.”

“You’re welcome to use mine,” he said. “Bring them by whenever you’d like.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, her feeling of awkwardness only deepening. She wasn’t sure what she wanted the most: to apologize to him, to reach up and fix his hair, or to simply turn and leave.

He seemed to pick up on her hesitation and absorb a bit of her nerves. “Are you—" he cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying the market?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” she replied, making an effort to relax. “I wouldn’t have expected something like this in Pelican Town.”

“It’s our one dose of culture for the year,” he chuckled, giving her a small smile, before they lapsed into silence for several moments.

Jo had tolerated the tension she felt inside for as long as she could, and settled on apologizing. “Hey, listen,” she said, “I’m still sorry for how I acted the other night.”

Harvey started to shake his head before she could even finish her sentence, taking a step closer to her. “You already apologized,” he said kindly. “We can just let it be in the past.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Consider it one bad moment in an otherwise lovely evening.”

She let out a short, skeptical laugh. “I think you forgot the part where you almost choked to death on my terrible wine,” she said.

He laughed. “And y _ou_ seem to have forgotten that I asked you to stay right after that.”

A smile stretched out across her face, her embarrassment gradually lifting away. “I guess I did,” she chuckled.

He seemed to relax at the same time that she did. “It really did mean a lot to me that you came that day,” he said in that warm tone that made her stomach flutter. “So let’s just let everything else be water under the bridge. Alright?”

She nodded, feeling heat creep into her cheeks, a stark contrast against the cold night air.

He gave her one last warm smile before he moved around her, heading toward the next vendor’s boat. “Take care, Jo. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

As Jo made her way back to the parking lot, searching for Maru and Penny, she realized it was going to take more than distraction to stifle the attraction she felt toward him. And – to make matters even more difficult – she was going to have to figure out how to do it without losing her friend.

****

Jo and Robin finished the repairs to her farmhouse just as winter began to thaw into the early days of spring, leaving Jo with little time to rest before she began planting. With a full year of farming under her belt, she felt more ambitious, and had expanded her garden to add new crops. Marnie called her up just a day or two after she got all of her seeds into the ground, excited to tell her she had two dairy cows to sell her. The sweet young cows delighted Jo – big brown eyes, soft curious noses – and also significantly increased her daily load of chores.

Between the regular upkeep of her farm and the other projects she had in various stages of execution, Jo began to feel overstretched. She spent little time off the farm during the first few weeks of spring, only occasionally running into town for necessary errands. She was tired, but she didn’t make much effort to slow down: there was a benefit to being this busy. She had seen Harvey only a handful of times since the Night Market, and she’d begun to feel hopeful again that she could allow her feelings for him to simply fade.

The more projects she had to focus on, the less he invaded her thoughts. The more she wore herself out, the less energy she had for feeling whatever she felt for him. The thought nagged at her, though, that staying away was not the way to keep a good friend – or especially to _be_ a good friend.

But surely she could figure out that part out somehow.

Around mid-morning on a cool, clear Saturday, Penny, Maru, and Harvey arrived on the farm for their tour. Penny had been the first to ask Jo to show her around the farm, wanting to figure out how best to create a farm field trip for her students, and then the tour group had naturally expanded to include Maru and Harvey. Jo hurried to complete her morning chores – watering the plants, feeding the chickens and cows, and mucking out stalls in the barn – just in time to greet them in front of the farmhouse.

“Well look at you!” exclaimed Maru, grinning as she plucked a stray piece of hay from Jo’s hair. “The picture of pastoral living,” she declared.

“Yeah, sorry, you all got here before I could get cleaned up,” said Jo, pausing to catch her breath. She brushed her hands off on the front of her overalls and stomped on the ground a few times in an effort to knock the remaining mud off her boots. “Just think of it as a very authentic farm tour,” she joked, “dirt and straw and everything.”

She saw that she’d gotten a crooked smile out of Harvey. She did her best to ignore the way that smile made her feel.

Penny bounced up onto her toes, excited. “So what do we get to see first?”

“Chickens first, I think,” said Jo, motioning behind the farmhouse, “and then we’ll make our way to the garden and end at the barn.” She heard a soft _woof_ and turned to see her old dog looking at them curiously through the screen door on the front porch. She stepped onto the porch to let him out, and he thumped his way happily down the stairs to greet her friends.

She gave the three of them a quick smile. “Everyone ready, then?” she asked, and then led the group back toward the chicken coop, her dog trailing cheerfully behind them.

After Maru and Penny spent some time scattering corn out for the hens, the group made their way down the narrow dirt trail that led to the garden, picking their way around muddy patches left behind after a couple days of rain. The two younger women walked ahead, and Jo fell into step with Harvey.

“You didn’t exactly dress for a day on the farm,” she commented, giving him a wry smile. He had worn his usual dress shirt, slacks, and tie.

“No,” he laughed. “I’m opening up the clinic for a few hours later,” he explained, smoothing his tie. “It’s still flu season and there’s a chance I’ll have some walk-ins. Obviously it was foolish of me to think I’d be able to keep these clean on a farm.” He lifted one foot to show his muddy dress shoe.

“Not your brightest idea,” she teased. She realized suddenly just how closely she was walking next to him, and took a step away. _Can’t even help yourself, can you?_ she scolded herself.

The four of them passed through the garden gate, and Jo led them through rows of young plants just beginning to spring up from the earth: potatoes and carrots, green beans, asparagus, strawberry vines. She showed them where she’d begun digging to install an irrigation system, and where she planned to build a few bee boxes, just beyond the fence.

Penny crouched down to take a closer look at some of her plants. “In a few weeks, this’ll be perfect for a lesson on where our food comes from,” she said excitedly. “I think the kids will get a kick out of it. You’re still okay with me bringing them for a field trip?” she asked.

Jo grinned. “Of course,” she said. “Just tell me the day and I’ll play tour guide again.”

They made their way back toward the gate and then headed uphill toward the barn. When the pasture came into view, Maru and Penny both squealed at the sight of the young cows.

“Oh my God! I didn’t know they’d be so cute!” exclaimed Maru, picking up pace toward the fence.

Jo laughed. “They’re extremely cute. They’re also shy, so don’t run straight at them.”

Maru and Penny crowded together and leaned up against the fence while the two cows watched them curiously, approaching slowly to better inspect the newcomers. Jo took her own place against the fence, pleased to see her friends enjoying themselves, and Harvey settled in beside her. Jo’s dog flopped down nearby and turned over on his back, taking a lazy roll in the grass.

“Is it okay to go in with them?” asked Penny as one of the cows cautiously sniffed her through the fence.

“Sure, just don’t move too fast,” said Jo. “Let them take their time and come to you, okay?”

Penny walked the few feet down the fence line to go through the gate, while Maru simply climbed over and dropped gently down into the pasture. The two women laughed like young children as the cows began to check them out with their soft, snuffling noses.

Jo watched them, smiling to herself, taking in the moment. It was the first time she’d shown anyone around the whole farm, and it felt good to share the place she’d grown to love with someone else. She was also acutely aware that Harvey was standing close to her again, leaning forward with his arms resting on the top fence rail.

“So what do you think, Harvey?” she asked. “Should I get a horse next?”

He frowned at her. “Have you ever ridden a horse in your life?”

“No,” she said, laughing, “but I’m sure it’s not too hard. I need a better way to get around this town.”

“Buy a truck, Josephine,” he replied playfully, and they fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in the view. They could see most of the farm from their vantage point on top of the hill.

“You’ve done something incredible here,” Harvey said.

She looked up and gave him a small smile. “There’s a lot left to do,” she replied.

“Give yourself some credit,” he said, giving her a look of gentle reproof. “Most people couldn’t have done this in a year. I know I couldn’t.”

She held his gaze for a moment, resisting the urge to deflect the compliment again. “Maybe not,” she said. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He gave her that crooked smile, and for an instant she imagined reaching out to grab that absurd tie, pulling him down to press her lips against his; the image was so vivid she briefly wondered whether she’d actually done it. She felt heat radiating from the pit of her stomach up into her chest, and her heart picked up pace. She turned her head and looked back out over the pasture, hoping she looked especially interested in watching Maru and Penny pet the cows.

_Get it together. Please._

After several more minutes, Maru and Penny came back through the gate. “That was so fun,” said Maru, grinning. “But I’m ready for lunch.”

The four of them headed back toward the farmhouse, Maru leading the way and Harvey in the back, with Jo and Penny in between them, discussing plans for the field trip.

“I’ll need to double check with the parents, to make sure I have their permission,” Penny said as the farmhouse came into view. “But once I do that I can finalize a date. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

“Works for me,” said Jo, smiling as she imagined Penny’s students tramping through the farm. She had been aware of Harvey’s presence behind her on the dirt trail, but realized suddenly that she no longer heard his footsteps. She frowned and turned to look over her shoulder, confused; it wasn’t possible to get lost between the barn and farmhouse.

He wasn’t lost. She spotted him, fifty yards back on the trail, his back turned to them, waiting. A few yards further back, her old dog plodded toward him, tired from his trek around the property, tail wagging slowly. Harvey stood, patient, until the dog reached him, and then leaned down to scratch him behind the ears.

Somewhere inside her a wall crumbled, and in that moment she thought she’d never known a better man in her life.

The three women reached the farmhouse and waited while Harvey and Jo’s dog caught up to them, Harvey maintaining a slow pace to keep the worn-out dog company. Jo made a feeble effort to participate in their conversation while her heart quietly burst.

They said their goodbyes, and her three guests climbed into Maru’s car to go about the rest of their day. Jo stayed on the porch for a few minutes, alone now except for her dog. She sat down in her old rocking chair and scratched his soft yellow head, thinking.

What she felt for Harvey wasn’t a crush and it wasn’t fading. And while she was capable of many things, remaining just his friend wasn’t one of them.

Running away wasn’t going to work. All that was left was to run toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope to have the next chapter ready in a few days, but it's a good one and I'm going to take my time to make sure I get it right :)


	8. A Radio Signal

Within a few days of the farm tour, Jo came to the conclusion that she had entirely forgotten how to pursue someone she was interested in. She’d had a few short-lived relationships in college and in the first few years after graduation – mostly with men she’d first met at parties and bars, where there’d been little pursuit necessary in the first place. Since then, she’d done only a few brief stints of online dating, which required even less effort to understand and communicate intentions.

She felt out of practice, but if she was going to pursue Harvey, she needed to start somewhere, so she chose texting. First a casual _good morning_ , then _how’s work_ , and _want to get coffee later?_

Then, somehow, they were getting coffee together at Gus’s twice a week. As spring became warmer and drier, they met at the park during Harvey’s lunch break whenever they could. Jo sometimes brought a meal for him she’d made from her own produce, feeling gratified whenever he especially enjoyed something she’d cooked.

It was little things that kept her feelings for him growing: the way he’d talk about some article he’d read the day before, the nearly-red shade that his hair turned in the bright sun, the smiles that deepened the creases at the corners of his eyes, the way he’d give her his full attention even after his patients had exhausted him that morning.

Jo could tell Harvey was getting more comfortable around her, but she didn’t know whether he was picking up on her feelings for him. He always seemed glad to see her, but only occasionally asked her to lunch, usually content to wait for her to ask first. When she pushed the boundaries slightly – sitting closer to him than she needed to, testing the line between friendly teasing and flirting – he either seemed not to notice or, if he did, he’d stiffen up and turn shy.

For Jo, the result of it all was a perplexing mixture of feelings: confusion and doubt, but also excitement, lightness, and a restless drive to be around him as much as she could. Many days she felt like a teenager, in a way that was more frustrating than fun. But she held on to hope and kept up the chase.

****

As summer heat began to roll into the valley and the last of her spring crops finally stopped producing, Jo found herself at a decision point she hadn’t expected. The spark of an idea had come to her about a week before and she realized that if she was going to follow through with it, she needed to act right then.

Her profits had been decent the year before, but if she wanted to be able to build up any savings for bigger projects in the next year – like larger-scale winemaking – she was going to have to bring in a much larger harvest for the next two seasons. She had the money for more seeds, fertilizer, and materials for a basic irrigation system, and she had cleared nearly enough space to the west of her barn – so if she wanted to, she could create a second garden space.

It was going to be a lot of work, especially on top of getting summer seeds planted in her original garden and all of the usual animal care. But if she was going to do it, it had to be now, and she felt certain it was the right thing to do.

So Jo found herself rising even earlier than usual in the morning and working late into the evening to make her idea a reality. She rushed in and out of town for supplies, cleared the remaining brush, tilled the soil, buried her irrigation lines, dug up rows for her crops, and planted – from the time the sun rose until there was no longer light enough left to see what she was doing.

At the end of the third day of work in her new garden, Jo dragged herself from the doorway of the farmhouse to the living room, unceremoniously kicking off her work boots along the way, and collapsed facedown onto the couch. She felt tired all the way down into her bones. She wondered if she’d make it off the couch to go to bed later or if she’d wake up tomorrow morning in this same spot, still in her work clothes. She closed her eyes and took a few moments just to breathe.

Once she’d been still for a few minutes, she realized there was one thing she wanted before she fell asleep, and that was to talk to Harvey. She rolled over onto her back and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She opened their text chain and fired off a quick _Hi_ before closing her eyes again and resting her phone on her chest, hoping she’d stay awake long enough for a reply.

Luckily, it came quickly. As soon as she heard the phone buzz, she let out a long, relieved exhalation.

_Hello Jo. How are you?_

_Exhausted. Finished up a big project today. I’ll tell you later,_ she replied.

_So that’s why I haven’t seen you._

She felt a twinge of guilt. _Yeah. Sorry. I should have said something._

A brief pause before the reply: _It’s okay. You should get some rest._ And then, shortly behind: _Can you take a break tomorrow?_

She thought about that for a moment, becoming aware of how sore she felt. _I think I have to._

Her eyes had closed and she was halfway to sleep before the phone buzzed again. _What can I do to help you?_

Jo had to smile: it was so very Harvey. _Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine,_ she responded.

She typed out her next message, erased it, and then typed it again, hitting send before she could change her mind: _I do miss you though._

There was a pause – long enough that her stomach sank and she felt twinges of regret: it was too much, she’d scared him off. But then there was another buzz, and his next message sent her heart into her throat, shocking her out of her exhausted stupor.

_You could come over tomorrow after clinic closes._

She was trying to formulate a reply when his second message appeared on her screen: _Bring those records you found._

Ten minutes later, she’d found the energy to get off the couch, change her clothes and brush her teeth, and climb into bed for a proper night’s sleep. She suspected it would take her a few minutes to settle down enough for sleep, though: in their months of friendship, Harvey had never once invited her to his apartment.

****

Late in the afternoon the next day, Jo arrived at the clinic with the box of her mom’s records in her arms, her stomach fluttering. She still wasn’t sure what to make of this invitation, and although she was trying to temper her excitement, she couldn’t help but think that Harvey knew – he _must_ have known, on some level – that she’d see this as a step toward something different in their relationship.

She took a deep breath and shifted the box over to one hip so she could reach her phone from her pocket, and then sent him a quick text: _I’m here._ She waited for several moments, the fluttering in her stomach briefly ramping up into a rolling sensation, and then heard quick footsteps coming toward the door. It clicked as it unlocked and then swung open all at once, and there was Harvey, a grin on his face like she’d never seen before: excited, almost childlike.

“Hi,” he said, breathless, already moving back from the door. “Come upstairs, quick,” he urged her, turning and heading quickly toward the back of the clinic.

Jo’s nerves had disappeared, replaced by bewilderment. She followed him up the stairway to his apartment, wondering whether she’d misinterpreted his texts the night before in a way she hadn’t even fathomed.

They hurried through the door of the apartment and Harvey motioned her over to a back window. She quickly set down the box on a table as she passed it. “Come look, I don’t think we’ve missed it yet,” he said, ushering her in beside him in front of the window, the two of them crowded together in the small space between the wall and a desk. Jo gave him a questioning look and he pointed up toward the sky. “Just watch.”

She looked up and waited a moment, seeing nothing but blue sky. “Harvey, what am I—"

“There,” he said suddenly, pointing again. “See it?”

Jo noticed the plane that had just come into view – it looked small, like one someone would use for sightseeing. “The plane?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, excited, his eyes glued to it. “I just spoke to the pilot on my radio,” he explained, nodding toward his desk. Jo looked to her right and saw that the desk was covered by a large, old-fashioned ham radio and headset, along with several instruments she didn’t recognize. The wall behind the desk was plastered with maps and charts, and a couple of shelves on the other side of the desk held several model planes.

Jo looked back up at Harvey, mystified. He gazed out the window, his head leaning lightly against the frame, watching the plane pass by. The look on his face made her picture what he must have looked like as a child.

“Hang on,” he said, moving around her to the desk and lifting up the radio headset. “Hold this.” She took it as he pressed a button on the radio and spoke into the receiver: “Blackbird, this is Dr. H on the ground again, here with – with Farmer J," he looked at her and grinned. “We’re watching you fly over the valley. Have a safe flight. Dr. H out.”

Jo held the headset in between them, and they both leaned in to listen. After a short pause, it made a crackling sound and a voice came through: “Copy, Dr. H. You have a good one.”

Jo grinned and let out a delighted laugh. Harvey grinned back at her and flopped down into the rolling chair at his desk, leaning back with his arms folded in front of him.

“So this is what you do?” Jo asked, gesturing around the room. He’d been in such a rush to get her to the window that she hadn’t even taken in the rest of the apartment. She looked now and saw worn couches, a small TV, a dining table covered in what looked like more model plane pieces, and several overstuffed bookshelves. “When you’re not – being a doctor?”

He laughed and glanced over at the collection of model planes. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “It’s always been a hobby. I’ve never been able to reach a real pilot on my radio, though, until just now.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh wow. And I got to be here for it,” she said.

“You did,” he said, giving her a warm smile.

“And how is it that you’ve never mentioned this to me before?” she chided him affectionately.

Harvey’s smile faltered, and he began to look a little embarrassed. “I guess it just didn’t come up,” he said, looking down toward the ground. She sensed a touch of sadness in his voice and, caught off guard by the sudden shift, was not sure what to say.

“You didn’t come here for my planes, though,” he said abruptly, his smile returning as he stood up from the chair. “You’re supposed to be relaxing. And listening to the music you brought. Let me get you something to drink,” he said, heading toward the kitchen. “And if you get hungry, I can go get us something to eat from Gus’s.”

“Sure,” she said, puzzling over the change that had just happened, and sat down on one of the couches in the living area. He returned a moment later with two glasses of wine and handed her one, and she took a grateful sip. 

Harvey picked up the box of records and brought it over to the couch, sitting down next to her and setting it in front of them on a low coffee table. “So what would you like to listen to first?” he asked, leaning forward and beginning to flip through them.

She thought for a moment. “I think you should pick one of mine,” she suggested, “and then I’ll pick one of yours. If I’m allowed to see your collection, I mean.”

“Of course,” he said, motioning toward the record player, set up against the wall next to a bookshelf. “They’re in the cabinet underneath.”

Jo took her glass of wine with her over to the cabinet, sitting on the floor in front of it to browse through his collection. She didn’t recognize most of it. He had mostly jazz albums, and she was only passingly familiar with a few of the names she saw.

“Your mom went through a folk phase, didn’t she?” Harvey commented as he looked through her records. He lifted one album out of the box and made a soft sound of appreciation. “She has good taste. I’m going to start with this one,” he said, moving to set it up on the player.

Jo continued to scan through Harvey’s records, suddenly coming across completely different genres, music she knew well: Van Morrison, Joni Mitchell, Otis Redding; nothing that had been written later than about 1975. She smiled and pulled out an album by Sam Cooke, holding it up so he could see. “I think you’ve got a sentimental side, doctor.”

His cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink. “Surely that doesn’t surprise you too much,” he replied.

“No, not really,” she said, then grinned as she pulled out the next album she saw: Al Green. “I won’t even ask you what this one’s for,” she said slyly as she held it up to him.

Now he was fully blushing. “That’s, um—"

“Harvey,” she laughed. “You’re a grown man. You don’t have to explain your Al Green album to me.”

He shook his head, his face still pink all over, and set the needle down on the record he’d chosen. The music rang out clearly: guitars, horns, an organ, pleasantly twangy voices harmonizing together. “Oh!” exclaimed Jo as she felt herself sink into a warm cloud of nostalgia. “It’s The Band,” she said, looking at him with a smile. “We had this on cassette tape. My mom used to play it whenever we went on long drives.”

Harvey sat back down on the couch and picked up his glass of wine, smiling back at her, pleased that she was pleased. “I’m glad I made a good choice,” he said. “Now come tell me about this project you’ve been working on.”

She climbed up from her spot on the floor and then settled in, deliberately placing herself on the center cushion of the couch next to him rather than leaving space between them. They drank their wine together while she told him about her new garden and all the work that had gone into it. Their conversation flowed easily from there, to his clinic work, books he’d been reading, events going on around town. Jo noticed that her nerves had faded completely – talking to him, being with him here was so easy that they became unnecessary.

Somewhere around their second glass of wine, Jo started to feel sleepy. Although the air conditioner was running, the room was warm, the summer heat invading the space even as the afternoon turned to evening. Her mom’s album was still playing, and the familiar music was soothing. At some point, she’d kicked off her shoes. Jo sighed and tilted her head back to rest on top of the couch, closing her eyes.

“You’re still tired,” she heard Harvey say softly.

“Very,” she replied.

“Don’t feel obligated to stay,” he said gently, “if you need to go home and sleep.”

She shook her head, opening her eyes to look at him. “It’s okay. I’d rather be tired here with company than alone in the farmhouse.”

He nodded and gave her a searching look. “Do you need anything?”

She smiled, shaking her head again. “No. I’m doing fine. Thank you.”

The song changed over to a tune that Jo recognized from the opening chords: mournful, heavy, beautiful. The two of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, listening. She didn’t remember all the words, but a few of the lines brought back memories of trips with her mom. _And the sun don’t shine any more. And the rains fall down at my door._

The music brought a heavy feeling into the room. Jo glanced over at Harvey, studying his face as he listened. She didn’t know if he knew the song, but it was clear that his mind had traveled somewhere far away. She remembered the touch of sadness she’d detected in him earlier.

“Harvey,” she said softly, bringing him back into the present. “What are you not telling me? About –" she hesitated, looking around the room at his desk, the model plane pieces on the dining table. “About the planes? The radio and everything.” She saw embarrassment flash across his face, and to keep him from shutting down on her, she pressed him gently: “I know there’s something.”

He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking down toward the floor. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, and then replied: “I’ve always loved planes, but I used to want to be a pilot. For a long time, actually. Starting from as young as I can remember.”

She frowned, studying his face carefully, and waited. His eyes were thoughtful, as if he had more to say, but he hesitated for several moments before continuing.

“Before my dad was a cardiologist, he was a military medic,” Harvey explained, his eyes still on the floor. He rubbed one palm with the thumb of his other hand as he spoke. “I thought he was the bravest person in this world. I didn’t want to be a doctor like he was. But I wanted to be _like_ him, and it seemed to me when I was young that the bravest thing I could do would be to fly planes. Maybe join the military too.”

Jo felt a small ache forming in her chest. “What happened?” she asked quietly.

He took off his glasses, holding them up for a moment as he sat up straight again. “Well, these, for one,” he said. “Turns out you need decent eyesight to qualify as a pilot, and I’ve needed glasses since first grade,” he explained, putting them back on. He paused for a moment before turning to look her in the face and continuing: “And it turns out that a crippling fear of heights doesn’t help a person become a pilot, either.”

Jo let out a small, surprised “Oh,” her brow furrowing. “I didn’t know,” she said softly. They went quiet for a few moments before she spoke up again, asking gently: “So how did you end up becoming a doctor? If that wasn’t what you wanted?”

He let out a long exhale before continuing. “I think it was sometime in high school when I accepted that the pilot dream was dead. So at that point, I’ve got a doctor for a dad, my brother’s heading to medical school, I had the grades for it,” he said. “I don’t know. It seemed like one way that I could live up to expectations,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He gave her a quick half-smile.

The mournful song had faded, and Jo could hear the needle clicking rhythmically as it reached the end of the album. The ache in Jo’s chest grew as she imagined a younger version of Harvey, his first dream already faded, following a path he hadn’t wanted. “I’m sorry,” she said, uncertain what else to say.

“Don’t be,” he replied, his tone reassuring. “I meant it when I told you I like being a doctor. Not every person is meant to do the thing they dream about.”

She remained silent for a moment, her sadness for him still sitting on her chest like a weight. “Do you still have other dreams, though?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, his tone warm and comforting.

“What are they?” she pressed.

He turned his head, breaking away from her gaze, but not before she saw that same sadness return to his eyes. After a moment of quiet, he replied, “I suppose they’re about the same as most people’s.”

“Harvey,” she said softly, understanding his meaning and, simultaneously, what it must have felt like for him to have those dreams in a place like this, where he had to keep everyone at arm’s length. The ache in her heart burst and spread throughout her body: a lump in her throat, a blurring in her eyes, a deep wish to put her arms around him, to climb up into his lap and hold him.

He looked back at her and, seeing the heartbreak on her face, followed his usual instinct to comfort her. “Jo, please,” he said, reaching down to grasp her hand, intertwining his long fingers with hers. “Don’t spend one second feeling sad for me. I have a good life,” he said earnestly, as he lifted her hand up in his and pressed his lips gently to the backs of her fingers.

Jo was stunned into momentary inaction, attempting to process her reaction both to his story and to the sudden display of affection, which he’d given so easily, so unthinkingly that she wondered whether he’d meant it. She sat frozen, her eyes wide, but she didn’t let go of his hand. She pictured leaning in to kiss him, pulling him close to her, wrapping her fingers in his hair; she realized her heart was racing.

But while she willed herself to become unfrozen, she watched him retreat. He looked away from her again, his face beginning to flush, and gently disentangled his hand from hers. He cleared his throat. “I, um,” he stammered, angling his body slightly away from her. “I’m sorry. I’ve got work to do. Before clinic tomorrow,” he said, unable to meet her eyes.

“Oh,” she said, her heart plummeting, her shock and excitement vanishing in an instant, replaced by a creeping embarrassment. It grew rapidly, becoming overwhelming, and her only thought was that she needed to get out. “I’m sorry. I’ll go,” she said, quickly finding her shoes under the coffee table and rising to leave.

Harvey stayed silent for a moment, watching her but still unable to look her in the eye. She’d nearly reached the door before he spoke up: “Do you want to take your records?” he asked feebly.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and, now, the beginnings of irritation. “I’ll get them from you later,” she said tersely, opening the door. “Bye, Harvey,” she said as she made her way over the threshold, closing the door roughly behind her.

Jo made her way down the stairs, burning up with shame and anger, the baffling last few minutes playing in her mind on a loop. _How the fuck did I get this so wrong?_

Halfway down the stairs, she stopped abruptly as the thought came to her: _I didn’t_. 

She knew how she felt about him, without a trace of doubt. She knew how he acted around her, the way he talked to her, the way he looked at her. She’d seen how easy it was for him to take her hand, how sweet, how _true_ that kiss had felt, and if she was wrong, she was more wrong than she’d ever been in her life but so be it: she wasn’t leaving.

She turned, made her way back up the stairs, and knocked on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this will not be a cliffhanger for long! :)


	9. A Confrontation

Jo stood in the doorway of Harvey’s apartment, steeling herself and giving him a hard look as soon as he opened the door. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her stomach roiled with emotions that were so mixed-up she didn’t know how to begin to untangle them. “Please let me back in,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

He nodded and stepped aside for her, moving cautiously, as if all those emotions might explode out of her if he got too close or moved too suddenly. He didn’t seem especially surprised that she had come back, but it was clear that he didn’t know what to expect from her. He looked as though he wanted to ask her a thousand questions, but he stayed quiet, waiting for her to make the first move.

Jo closed the door behind her, crossed her arms over her chest, and took a deep breath. She looked him over, taking a moment to figure out where she wanted to start. “Harvey,” she said, keeping her tone as even as she could. “Don’t you think we should go out sometime?”

It was clear that this was not what he’d anticipated coming out of her mouth. A flush swept quickly over his face and for a moment, he could only look at her with his brow furrowed, searching her face for some kind of clue. “Do you mean—"

“Like on a date. Yes. That’s what I mean,” she interrupted.

He gave his head a short shake, looking perplexed. “I, um. I mean. Yes,” he stammered, “I would like that. A lot.”

Jo let out a slow exhalation. The waves of emotion that had been rolling around inside her began to crest over her – frustration, anger, exhaustion – and were joined by a new feeling as well: a deep sense of relief. She hadn’t been wrong about this. Somehow, though, being right had never made her feel this upset.

“Well good, then,” she said. “I think we should too,” she added, grimacing at how foolish she sounded. She kept her arms crossed in front of her, holding herself in. She avoided looking directly at him, fearful of what might become unlocked if she saw those green eyes questioning her.

Harvey was still eyeing her warily, confused, looking almost frozen in place. “Jo,” he said, “What is it?”

Jo felt tears bubbling up in the corners of her eyes and willed them to stay in place. “Nothing. I asked you out, you said yes.” She paused for a moment and added, “I guess I can go now,” preparing to turn and walk out the door again.

“Josephine.” He took a step closer to her. “Help me out. Please. I’m – I’m very confused,” he said. “I mean, I’m very happy that you – that you asked me that. But you’re also obviously angry with me,” he added, his voice becoming steadier. “And you’re crying.”

Jo shook her head, trying to make it stop, but it was too late. She felt a hot tear run down her cheek and brushed it away hastily, then felt another on her other cheek. “Fuck,” she muttered, then finally brought herself to meet his eyes. “I just don’t understand what was so hard about this,” she said, her anger beginning to bubble over.

When she hesitated, he took another step closer. He kept his eyes on her face, searching, puzzling her out in the same way he’d done so many times before, but this time with a sense of urgency. “Tell me what you mean,” he encouraged her.

She let out a huff of frustration. “I mean that _I like you_ , Harvey, and obviously you like me too,” she said. “So why in the world has it been so hard for us to get to this point? To just – just fucking _say it?_ ” Angry tears continued to make their way down her face at a steady clip. “I mean, Christ, we’re grown-ass people, Harvey. We’re in our thirties. Why have we been acting like a couple of stupid kids?” She could hear a touch of her mother’s twang coming out in her own voice as she spoke.

His brows knit closer together, and he looked pained. “Jo, I had no idea you felt the same way,” he said quietly, a touch of shame in his expression.

“How could you not?” she retorted. “I’ve been chasing you for months, I’ve been crazy about you for – for half a year or more,” she said, exasperated. “I can’t understand how you didn’t see, how you never said anything.”

The look of shame on his face deepened and he looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I should have. I’ve had feelings for you since – probably since the fair last year,” he admitted. “And I wondered, sometimes, if you – if you felt that way about me. But I guess it didn’t make sense to me,” he explained, “that someone like you would be interested in me.”

She shook her head, irritated. “Don’t do that. I don’t even know what that means, Harvey, ‘someone like me.’ Please don’t act like there’s no reason in the world that I would like you when I’ve told you before exactly what I like about you.”

He stayed silent for a moment, eyes locked onto the floor. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Harvey, why did you let me chase you so long if you knew? If you knew that you had feelings for me and you thought I had them back?” she asked. Her anger had boiled away and left behind the deeper, truer emotion underneath: hurt. “I mean, I have – I have driven myself crazy, trying to be around you all the time, trying to figure out why you seem to want me to get close but then you just – you push me away,” she said, her voice small, tears coming faster now. “Just like you did tonight.”

“Jo,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He closed the distance between them, placing his hands on her shoulders and pulling her in toward him, wrapping her into a tentative embrace. She allowed herself to melt into him, letting her head drop down onto his shoulder, and he held onto her a little tighter. “I never meant to make you feel that way,” he said, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that earlier. I should have told you right then. I wish I had told you a long time ago.”

They stayed there for several minutes, quiet and still, as Jo’s tears finally slowed to a stop. She realized that she’d soaked his shirt collar. She pulled back from him enough so she could look him in the eyes, trying to show him that she was okay again.

Harvey looked at her intently and raised his hands to hold either side of her face, brushing the remaining tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “I should have been braver, but I wasn’t,” he said in a low rumble that sent a shiver up the back of her neck. “And I’m more sorry for that than I can say. But if it’s not too late, I’d like to try again.”

Jo shook her head, trying to keep fresh tears from falling again, feeling her heart start to beat quickly. “Of course it’s not too late.”

He gave a quick smile and let out a relieved, shaky exhale. “You’re going to need to be patient with me,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, and I’m going to have to wrap my head around the fact that this is even happening,” he continued, resting his forehead against hers. “But I promise you I’m going to try. I’ll chase you back, if you’ll let me. Please.”

She gave a little nod, their heads still pressed together. “I’ll try to be patient,” she said quietly.

He smiled at her and then kissed her forehead, firm yet sweet, lingering for just a moment. Jo let her eyes close, soaking in the way it felt to be this close to him. She realized all at once that she was exhausted, body and soul.

Harvey let his hands drop from her face back down to her shoulders, looking her over curiously.

“I’m so tired,” she murmured, and then let out a short laugh, wiping the last remnants of tears from her eyes.

“I know you are,” he said, pulling her back in toward him again, wrapping his arms around her. “You work too hard.”

She could have stayed there for hours, fallen asleep standing up in his arms, breathing him in. “I don’t want to go,” she admitted, “but I think I better.”

“I don’t want you to, either,” he said, “but you need to get some rest.” He paused before adding, “I could walk you home, if you’d like.”

She shook her head. “I think I could use the walk to clear my head, to be honest,” she said. “But I’ll see you soon?”

“You will. You’ll hear from me tomorrow,” he assured her.

She gave him one more tight hug before she made her way out the door. It was the second time that night that she’d left, but it felt like days had passed since the first.

“Text me when you get home,” he said softly, watching her go with a hint of longing in his eyes.

The summer night air was warm and humid, but as Jo stepped outside the clinic she felt like she’d come up from underwater. She paused to gulp down a few deep lungfuls of air. Her head was buzzing. She felt completely drained, and yet so much lighter; exhausted, but almost giddy. She wanted to sleep, she wanted to cry all over again, she wanted to shout out how happy she felt in the middle of the town square.

She settled on sleep first, and made the long walk home to her farm, serenaded by crickets and tree frogs as she went.

****

Jo slept a heavy, dreamless sleep, and when her alarm went off the next morning, she felt like she’d slept for a full day and that it still hadn’t been quite enough. She reached for her phone before she got out of bed, only to immediately feel foolish. She had no notifications, and her phone opened to their same texts from last night: _I made it home_ , followed by _Sleep well._ Harvey had said she’d hear from him today, but of course he hadn’t meant at six o’clock in the morning. _Don’t make yourself crazy_ , she told herself.

She roused her old dog from his spot at the end of the bed, fed him, and then made herself breakfast before heading out to take care of her chores for the day. She was grateful for the distraction, but even with chores to do, she found herself fighting the urge to keep checking her phone. She fed the chickens first, then fed and milked the cows before she headed to each of her gardens. She turned on the outdoor taps and let the irrigation systems do their work, and occupied herself by pulling weeds for a while.

By late morning, she’d done everything that needed to be done on the farm for the day, and made her way back to the house. She checked her phone along the way: nothing yet. She would need to think of something absorbing to do this afternoon to take her mind off Harvey; she had a few pounds left of spring strawberries that she could make into jam, which might do the trick.

As she approached the farmhouse, she saw that her dog was on the porch, half-snoozing in the summer heat. He thumped his tail on the floor as she came into view. Then, something else on the porch caught her eye, and a smile crept over her face. She walked up the steps and picked up a small vase of bright yellow flowers. There was a plain white card attached, and she opened it to read, in Harvey’s slightly messy handwriting: _I got us dinner reservations in the city for Friday night. I’ll pick you up at 6._ _–H._

Jo laughed to herself, a flutter of excitement forming in her stomach. She looked down at her dog. “He came over here when he knew I’d be out, and you didn’t even come get me,” she chided him. “Some guard dog you are.”

She sat down in her rocking chair and admired the flowers for a couple of minutes, recalling Harvey’s words from the night before: _I’ll chase you back, if you’ll let me._ “What do you think, Bud?” she asked the dog, who yawned at her in response. “I think so too,” she said. “So far, so good.”


End file.
